The Kind Barista
by Meadowlarkflyaway
Summary: MODERN AU. Anne meets an infuriating barista who writes "Carrots" on her cup instead of the "Anne with an E" she clearly stated. She finds out his name is Gilbert Blythe, Redmond's most well liked senior, and Diana is convinced Anne has caught his eye. Anne couldn't care less. And just who does he think he is winking at her like that? A re-telling of Anne and Gilbert's timeline.
1. Chapter 1

**While working on my other story, "Without Anne (which can tend to get a bit heavy)," this fun, fluffy idea came to me on a whim and formed itself into a chapter. I have a couple ideas for more chapters, so we'll see where it goes! My apologies if this has been done before! Regardless, I hope you enjoy :)**

 **All thanks and rights go to L.M. Montgomery for her incredible characters and creation of Redmond College.**

Anne gave a chaste twirl and skip through the fallen red maple leaves that lined the Kingsport curb, crunching them delightfully under her feet.

"In the deep fall

don't you imagine the leaves think how

comfortable it will be to touch

the earth instead of the

nothingness of air and the endless

freshets of wind?..."*

Anne quoted as she picked up a perfectly formed deep red maple leaf that fluttered her way from a passing car. She held it to the sun, marveling the glowing orange that passed through it's gentle veins.

Gingerly placing the leaf into her bag, Anne felt her phone vibrate.

 _I'm here at the shop studying! It's super cute!_

Anne glanced at the time, then looked around at the surrounding shops and street signs. This was Diana's kind way of reminding her she was 30 minutes late to their coffee date, and Anne realized she hadn't been paying attention to where she was going. She had become so enraptured by the turning trees she had wandered far beyond her destination.

Finally finding the shop after hurriedly running down the street, she blustered through the door that gave a tinkle as she closed it to the crisp air. She gave a merry wave to Diana, already seated, and took a moment to catch her breath.

"What could I get for you today?" A kind voice queried.

Anne turned towards the voice and gasped out, "Just a moment." She took a look around. The shop was a quaint little thing, with cheery yellow walls decorated with local art. Littered about were comfy, inviting chairs and couches, along with mismatched dining chairs that crouched around small patio tables. It looked like an eccentric's living room, and Anne smiled cozily at the sight of it.

Anne remembered what Diana had said about the place, 'Ruby Gillis says it's the most darling little place, and we have to go to it. They play really calming music and have the sweetest little pastries and she says the whole place just feels happy.'

If Ruby Gillis says you have to go, then "Thus saieth the Lord," as Mrs. Lynde would say, Anne thought with a chuckle.

Anne approached the counter, wincing slightly as she took off her hat that revealed a mess of red curls. It never did do well in wind.

"You ready?" The barista with the kind voice asked.

"Yes," Anne replied, placing her order, noticing acutely just how good looking this barista with the kind voice was.

"What's your name?" He asked with a smile and a twinkle in his eye, like he was up to something.

"Anne. Anne with an E," she added, just in case they wrote her name on the cup. It always aggravated her to take home a cup labeled "Ann." She felt to be drinking a stranger's coffee.

While waiting for her order, Anne turned towards Diana and embraced her dear friend.

"Oh Diana, isn't this the perfect day? The air is just chilly enough to burrow into a sweater, and as I was walking here I felt like a queen with the maples lining each side of the street, so majestically red overhead fanning out their branches like exotic plumes, each leaf that was let down a luscious treat. And this place! I feel as if we are friends already."

Diana nodded, used to Anne's ramblings but never quite sure what to say. "I'm so glad Ruby told us about it," she replied.

"Anne with an E!" The kind voice called out.

Anne picked up her cup only to stop abruptly short, eyes narrowing. Instead of her name scrawled across it, as she had so clearly described, was written "Carrots," and a smiley face beside. She looked up, finding the barista turned towards her, wiping out a mug and smirking. As their eyes met he gave her a wink.

In return, Anne gave him her best glare and turned away with a huff.

"What's wrong?" Diana asked, seeing Anne take her seat moodily. "Get your drink wrong?"

"If only," Anne said darkly. "That insufferable barista decided to get a laugh for himself by making fun of my hair." She turned her cup towards Diana. "See?"

Diana giggled, but abruptly stopped after Anne pointed a glare at her this time. "Oh, but Anne, it is a little funny. He probably _likes_ your hair. Haven't you ever heard that? Boys tease girls they like."

Anne let out an annoyed breath. "Yes, of course I've heard that, but I'm pretty sure that only applies to boys who are prepubescent. What is he, 14?" She rolled her eyes.

Diana looked up at the counter, gave a little gasp and gripped the table, "You didn't tell me it was _Gilbert Blythe_. I didn't know he worked _here_!"

Anne wrinkled her nose "Gilbert? Who's named Gilbert these days?"

"I know, right?! I thought the same. But once you meet him you'll totally change your mind. It's totally cute on him." Diana assured.

Anne knew Diana and her differed on these things and was not convinced.

Diana continued in a hushed tone, "I can't believe you've never met him. He's a senior, pre-med, and everyone loves him. In the Lambs frat, but like, not a douchebag, class president, and he's captain of the football team."

Anne sneaked a quick look back at him. "But he looks like a hipster?"

"He kind of is! But not in a bad way. Everyone loves him, because he's the perfect mix. Not too jockey, cause he's smart, and he's so funny, and really cool too. And _hot_ -"

Diana's eyes widened as she stared past Anne's head. She leaned forward and hissed, " _He's walking over here_!"

Gilbert placed two plates in front of them that held a pastry each, "I thought you two might need something to go with your drinks. Don't worry, it's on the house." He said with a smile, turning to look at Anne. "How's the tea? I haven't tried that one before."

"It's fine, thank you." She replied curtly, nose upturned.

He gave another smile, paused momentarily as if it to say something, then turned away. As soon as he had gone, Diana leaned her head in again. " _Anne_ ," she chided, "He wanted to talk to you! You should have said something more. That was so nice of him to give us these." she took a bite of the fluffy chocolate cake. "Oh my God, that's good."

Anne sighed. She had a tendency to be a little bit judge-y when it came to men. "He just seems like one of those guys who knows he's perfect and is really into himself and can get away with anything. You know? I don't think he's really my type."

"Anne, I don't think we've known _anyone_ who is your type. You have such high standards." She sighed, and they both thought over the list of cringeworthy boyfriends Diana had encountered over the years. "I should probably have higher standards."

"Diana, you are perfectly sweet, that's why just about every man falls for you," Anne reassured her. "There's so many perfect examples of literary men, I just don't understand why more guys don't model after them? It would do them a lot of good."

"You're probably right," Although Diana wasn't sure she wanted a stuffy man from the 1800s to step into today. Anne did have the weirdest ideas sometimes.

"Anyways, do you think you're going to go to the party tonight? It sounds kind of fun but I don't know..."

Anne knew Diana was dying to go. Philippa Gordon, Redmond's resident diva, was hosting a party with a 1920's theme and the invitation online was titled, 'Be classy.' Though Anne had never met her personally, she felt as if Phil would be quite the character to know.

"Let's," Anne said with a warm smile, and Diana's face brightened, "It'll be fun to dress up."

"Oh I'm _so_ glad you said that," gushed Diana. "I have this dress that's perfect for it..."

After Diana rambled about her potential outfit for the evening, and Anne ranted about a poor mark she had received in statistics, the two friends reluctantly hunkered down for an afternoon of studying.

On their way out to leave, Diana stopped by the counter and Anne continued to walk past her toward the door, uninterested in giving the barista more attention than he obviously needed.

"Hey Gilbert! You going to Phil's tonight?"

"Wouldn't miss it for the world." Anne took one look back, just in time to see Gilbert send another wink her way.

Anne pushed through the door with a scowl. _Just who does he think he is?_

 ***Poem by Mary Oliver, "Song of Autumn"**

 **Thanks for reading! Oh how fun college is...am I reliving my college days via this fanfic? Maybe yes...;) wow that makes me sound old...**


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks for all your reviews, faves, and follows! I'm so happy you're enjoying this. Now for the party...**

 **...**

"Welcome!"

As soon as Anne touched the doorbell, Ruby flung open the door to Phil Gordon's second story apartment where the din of a party and jazzy swing music met hers and Diana's ears. Behind Ruby's brightly lit eyes and outstretched arms, Phil's place looked less like a college dwelling and more like a wedding venue; twinkling lights cascaded across the ceiling around a glittery, crystal chandelier in the center, casting the room with a romantic peach light. Vases of white feather plumes were set about the place, and furniture had been moved out of the way and replaced with small, lace covered tables that held champagne glasses and other delicate hors d'oeuvres. But most impressive was that the other guests, who filled the room, had taken the 1920s theme very seriously-girls with red stained lips and pinned back wavy hair, adorned with jeweled bandeaus, robed in flowing flapper dresses of jewel tones. Even the guys didn't disappoint with sharp suits and ties.

"Wow," Diana breathed.

"Isn't it amazing?" said Ruby, looking quite model-esque in a gold sequined dress that made her hair look more silky and shiny than ever. "I can't believe you've never been to one of these. Phil seriously has the best parties. Basically all the juniors and seniors come."

Anne stared captivated at the delicate lights above them. She wasn't much of a college party goer-more of curled up by the student's lounge fireplace with a good book and a hot mug of tea-but the ones she had been to were nothing like this. "Where's all the cheese puffs and crappy beer in red solo cups and weird smelling couches?"

Ruby laughed, "You obviously haven't met Phil! She literally throws out anyone who doesn't come in costume. That's what I'm supposed to do at the door. But really I like to check out everyone's outfits."

"And say hi to all the guys," Diana teased.

"Well, duh!" she said, running surprisingly fast in impressively high heels as the door rang. Anne and Diana made their way over to the dainty tables stacked high with food-little tea sandwiches, crab cakes, shrimp cocktails, pastel macaroons-as a regal looking blonde haired man carrying a silver tray loitered over to them and offered a flute of champagne.

"Is that a _servant_?" Diana hissed as he waltzed away.

Anne shrugged. She would believe just about anything at this point. "He looks a bit like Justin Timberlake," she said, eyeing his fedora.

"But actually classy," Diana pointed out. "Oh my God, this is _real_ champagne! Can you _believe_ that?" Diana said.

Anne took a sip of the bubbly drink, feeling almost royal herself in such an elegant environment, when she felt a warm hand clench her arm and a hot peppermint breath in her ear.

"I am SO glad you came. I can't tell you how much I've been DYING to meet you both. I always see you two across campus with your heads together and arms hooked, whispering about something, and it just makes me want to be friends with you so bad so I can know all the things you're talking about. Isn't it the best feeling to have someone to whisper with? After seeing you I usually grab the first person I see and whisper something in their ear. It's usually something boring, like about the weather, but I just HAVE to do it."

Anne felt taken a back and stared at Phil Gordon's pretty done up brown eyes, not quite sure how to respond. She was, hand's down, the most spectacularly dressed in the room, perfectly flaunting a furred wrap that covered her shoulders, her glossy hair tight back in an elegant knot that held a peacock's feather and complimented her deep green gown. Instead of giving off a haughty air with all the glitziness she possessed, her face was warm and welcoming and Anne sensed already she was a kindred spirit of sorts.

Diana found her voice a little quicker, "You just whisper to someone you don't know?"

"Oh yes," said Phil emphatically, "I know it sounds weird, but who doesn't love feeling like they're sharing in a secret? EVERYONE loves that, so I don't worry." She took both of their hands in hers. "Oh PLEASE let me be your friend? I don't think I could survive if you said no."

Anne laughed. Yes, Phil was indeed a character. "Of course!"

"Oh that is just the most perfect news!" Phil trilled, raising their enclasped hands above their heads in victory. Then, she dropped her hands quickly, pulled them close, and whispered seriously, "Now that we're friends, I need to ask you something." The girls looked concerned, leaning in. "Ok, you see those two guys carrying around the trays?" They nodded, serious as ever. "Well, the brown haired one is Alec, and the blonde-the one that looks like J.T.-is Alonzo. If you have to be stuck on an island and live the rest of your life with one of them, which would you choose? Just going off first impressions and base animal instincts."

Anne laughed again, more accustomed to Phil's silliness by now. Diana glanced around at the two men who looked very much like hired waiting staff. "Hmm...maybe the brown haired one? Alec? I'm a girl who loves a dark haired guy."

"Oh me too, they are DELICIOUS." She turned towards Anne, serious again, "What do you think?"

Anne, still smiling at the ridiculousness of the conversation, answered with another laugh, "Neither! I'd rather fend for myself!"

Phil stared at her like she had said the most profound thing. "Oh, but this is BAD," she breathed after a moment. "I already have such a hard time making decisions, and I just can't figure out which one to date. They both are totally whipped into doing whatever I want, which is great, and they are totally rich, also completely necessary, obviously. But neither of them? And so start all over again?" She shook her head looking like someone had told her war had commenced. "Although, if Gilbert Blythe had any money at all I would totally go after him."

They all laughed together, knowing just how expensive a lifestyle Philippa Gordon led.

Phil stopped abruptly, eyes wide, hands shooting to her face dramatically, "But I don't even know your NAMES! I'm such a terrible friend!" she cried.

"I'm Anne Shirley," she said with a kind smile, admiring Phil's perfect puppy eyes.

"And I'm Diana Barry."

Phil gave one excited hop, "You're Diana Barry! ALL the guys talk about you, I swear, they are completely insane about fighting over you. That black hair and sweet eyes mashup has got them RAVENOUS," at this Phil formed her hands into claws and mimicked a cat's growl.

"Really?" Diana said with a deep flush.

"Oh yes, either they're fighting over me or you. It used to be Ruby Gillis too, but the boys have given up on her since her and Herb got really serious. That's why I don't think I'll ever date seriously-I just HAVE to have a ton of guys chasing after me. Can you imagine only having one? SO boring."

Diana was in a daze, thinking of all the possibilities of boys who could be going crazy over her.

"Anyways, I'm Philippa, Phil for short, and please don't call me Philippa unless I'm being a COMPLETE idiot, because then I'll know. Sometimes I can miss these things." She nodded gravely, lips pursed. "Oh I just love you two!" She squeezed both their cheeks, followed with a kiss each, and ran off.

Anne and Diana turned to stare at one another, then burst out laughing.

"Oh, Diana, I can't remember the last time I laughed so hard! Phil is absolutely hilarious, and the best thing is she isn't even trying! Her whole soul pours out through her mouth and it's like a river of delicious sparkly pink," Anne clutched at her side, trying to stable her laughs with an arm on Diana's shoulder.

Diana looked flabbergasted. "Do you think she was really serious the whole time? I mean, I just couldn't tell if she was just joking around or kinda, like...crazy."

Anne could not help but laugh once more. "I think she is just perfectly Phil, and says whatever is on her dear little heart. Oh, I am so glad we came, if only to meet her. I feel so alive!" At that moment, she felt a stern two taps on her shoulder, and turned around, alarmed.

"Madam," a very serious looking boy with bulging eyes stated, "Would you do me the greatest honor and give me this dance?" He held out his arm with chivalry.

 _Madam_? Anne looked around at the few other people dancing haphazardly across the close quarters of the apartment, mostly in a joking, semi-drunk way.

"Uh, sure?" Anne conceded, still high from Phil's presence to be too critical. Perhaps this was another interesting character she would have the pleasure of meeting tonight.

However, Anne was sadly mistaken. As soon as she gripped one of his clammy, sweaty hands and felt the other stiff against her waist, she found herself dancing in an awkward, off beat, and continual rock step. She didn't know where to look after staying in such an aching position for so long-she was finding it hard to stay fascinated with the parquet floor.

Finally, he gave a gulp and cleared his throat to say something. Anne glanced up and moved her head back in alarm. Somehow, his eyes were even larger in close proximity. "You are as radiant as the stars," he blurted out suddenly, breath smelling of guacamole.

Anne recoiled and decided that was definitely a comment she was going to ignore, and focused instead at the problem at hand: being aggravatingly off beat. In a vain attempt to steer their steps, she tripped over his feet and fell against his arm.

"It's ok, I mess up when I'm nervous, too," he said in a low voice, serious eyes bulging out even further.

Anne gathered herself up and stared at him, mouth agape, "What? No-I-" she said, her mind flitted about in frustrated tantrum. She concluded through clenched teeth with a muffled "Nguh!"

"Shh, you don't have to explain your feelings." He leaned closer, and Anne strained her head so far away she could feel a double chin forming. "I can see it in your star-struck eyes." He said in a nervous flirty whisper.

Anne blinked at him, astonished, feeling a snappy retort forming on her tongue that she could say about HIS eyes. She caught a glimpse of Diana over the shoulder of Clam Hands, her hand over her mouth, hiding her giggles as she watched Anne's painful predicament. Priscilla stood beside her, wiping her eyes from laughing so hard.

Feeling humiliated, Anne opened her mouth to escape the possessive grasp and scrutiny of such bugged eyes, but was quickly silenced when he abruptly brought her into a violently low dip as the song came to an end, whipping her back up again just as abruptly.

 _Good Lord_ , she thought, stumbling to her feet and suffering minor whiplash. Her face was hot and she tried to fix her disheveled hair and off center skirt, looking around to see if anyone noticed that hideous excuse for dancing.

Anne distractedly looked back to her partner as he made a very low bow in front of her, while she stared at him incredulously. She was startled from her astonishment as a familiar voice sounded in her ear. "Charlie, my man, excellent dancing."

Anne slowly turned with a grimace, realizing just who had approached them. "I hope you won't mind if I steal your partner from you." he said to Charlie. "What do you say, Anne with an 'E'?"

 **...**

 **Hmm, I wonder who it is? ;P**

 **Would love to hear your thoughts!**


	3. Chapter 3

**You all make my heart sing! I am so encouraged with all the response and I really hope you enjoy this chapter as well. It was so much fun to write, but I'm almost scrapped it a million times because it didn't feel "Anne" enough. I'm deciding to take the risk!**

 **...**

Anne found herself face to face again with Gilbert Blythe, who looked, she thought begrudgingly, stunningly good in a crisp, charcoal gray wool suit, a little stubble, and that perfectly mussed hair of his. Not forgetting their meeting hours before, Anne narrowed her eyes. She did not want to give him the satisfaction of accepting his offer, however, the prospect of finding herself finagled into another dance with off beat Charlie was very unappealing.

Gilbert bemusedly looked between Anne, silently scowling, and Charlie, looking peeved that he would even consider stealing his woman.

"Ah, I didn't realize I was interrupting such a serious moment." he teased. Anne scoffed, and not seeing another option, reluctantly took his outstretched hand.

With a crooked smile on his face, Gilbert spun Anne about before drawing her hands close to him. "Charlie is really harmless, you know," he said over the buzz of the party, "A bit on the weird side, but completely harmless."

He swung her back out again. When they had come back face to face, Anne replied snarkily, "I didn't need rescuing, if that's what you're getting at."

He gave a smirk. Up close, Anne noticed hazel eyes reminiscent of an evening's golden hue in summer. "I have no doubt you can make it on your own," he replied, "But after that dip? I feared a little for your safety." Anne felt her face grow hot. So people _had_ seen that. Or maybe just Gilbert.

"Anne Shirley, right? English and Journalism Major?" She nodded. They had stopped dancing now with Charlie out of range, and he dropped her hands with one last twirl.

"I feel like we got off on the wrong step this afternoon and I owe you an apology," he said sincerely, "I realize that 'Carrots' bit came off the wrong way-can I make it up to you? Coffee sometime, on me? From what I've heard, you seem like a pretty cool girl."

Anne regarded him for a moment, eyes imploring and head tilted down genuinely towards her. How many other girls had been won over with this look? He obviously knew what he was doing. "So...you've been stalking me?"

"Maybe." He gave that lopsided, cheeky grin of his. "So what do you say? Coffee sometime?"

She paused for a minute, regarding him. "Sorry, I'm busy," she said coldly.

"Oh!" He looked uncomfortably shocked, and Anne thought with satisfaction this was not the response he was expecting. He recovered quickly, though, and gave her a bright smile. "Well, Anne Shirley, if you find you're in need of a drink, just let me know."

Anne turned back towards Diana, nose high, but feeling a tinge of guilt for her rudeness. It was clear Gilbert's apology was sincere. She saw now his stunt at the coffee shop was not meant harshly, but still-she didn't want to go on a date with him just because he owed her an apology. First dates were meant to romantic and special; a flowery invitation, a mysterious destination, a reserved but passionate man, full of surprises, sigh invoking moments, and maybe even, perhaps, a stolen kiss. Not over coffee with Gilbert as an "I'm sorry" for making fun of her hair. It didn't matter that half the school thought he was the perfect catch-for all Anne could see, he was handsome, but otherwise ordinary. Well, she had higher standards than just that.

"Oh. My. God. _Oh my God!"_ Diana squealed, jumping excitedly and clapping her hands.

"Diana, _please."_ Anne said, giving her a pleading look. "Not again."

* * *

" _Hellloooo. Hello?"_ Phil's voice called above from the balcony, wielding a megaphone. The clamor of the party subsided as the group turned their heads upward. "Oh, _perfect_ , I've been dying to use one of these. I feel like I'm commanding an army," she wiggled her shoulders, looking satisfied and absolutely diva-like. "It's so _energizing."_

"Now," she continued with her megaphone, "is when the fun really begins. You all look ravishing, by the way. But I hope you girls wore shorts under those dresses because..." She paused and pointed to Alec and Alonzo, who started slapping their thighs in mock drumroll, " _The Gordon Games are about to begin!_ " she roared over the megaphone.

The room erupted in whoops, cheers, and hollers from anticipating veteran party goers. Anne and Diana looked at each other nervously, and Diana whispered, "I definitely did not wear shorts."

"For all you _noobs_ out there, you'll _very_ soon learn about the Gordon Games." A couple of knowing laughs echoed across the crowd. "But now, let's give another drum roll for The Games Most Important Item... _The elixir of death,"_ Phil said mysteriously, gesturing her arm Vanna style to Alec and Alonzo bringing out a punchbowl of shocking bright red liquid. The group made appropriate ' _oohing_ ' and ' _aahing_ ' sounds as they made their way down the stairs.

"All of you future losers have the fabulous Priscilla Grant to thank for this exquisite potion," who gave her best model pose, looking rather menacing in her teetering heels and tall athletic stature.

"Isn't that just fruit punch and vodka?" Moody Spurgeon called out.

"Basically, yeah," Priscilla answered.

"You mean, _the elixir of death,"_ Phil said in that epic mysterious voice again, "That's a drink for you Moody Spurgeon!" She commanded through the megaphone, emitting a groan from Moody who obediently took a drink. "For you rest of you-I suggest you inhale as much food as possible before we start!"

* * *

After a couple of rounds of "I'm Going on a Picnic," a hilarious game of "Drunken Pictionary," in which no one could discern Diana's drawing of a mushroom and platypus hybrid, Anne thanked God in Heaven above she had yet to lose and meet the fate of the dreaded "elixir of death." She wasn't exactly the drinking type-her mouth talked too much already on its own-and she discovered after one drunken party sophomore year she was definitely a light weight. Her determination to make it through the night elixir free, coupled with her usual stubbornness, made each game absolutely thrilling.

"The next game is a fun little one called 'Hovering Bunnies.'" Phil said, with an expression of pure delight. "Ever heard of it? No? Well, take out your dentures, grandmas and grandpas, you're about to lose your teeth."

"That sounds violent," a senior named Brad said with a frown.

"Not like you have anymore chiclets* to lose, buddy!" yelled back a football player named Craig. Evidently, Brad was a hockey player.

Phil pointed her megaphone at them, "Shush, children. Ok, _so_ , you'll need to form a large circle and sit down, everyone facing each other."

There was a general shuffling around with some struggle-the first game had been quite the slosh fest-and everyone eventually plopped on the ground. Ruby slid to the ground with a giggled sigh, hanging onto the Gilbert's arm as Herb Spencer looked on worriedly. Gilbert unhooked his arm and stared at Phil expectantly, seeming to be quite competitive himself, Anne noted.

"This is not a game for the rhythmically challenged," Phil said, and Charlie confidently boasted, "Easy as pie," causing Anne, Diana and Priscilla to emit a snort.

"So here's how it works: Everyone practice this beat," Phil continued, making quotation marks with her hands and then clapping them together twice, "As a group, while keeping this beat, you'll say 'Hovering Bunnies' twice, and then one person will pass it along. Priscilla will start, for example, by saying 'Priscilla to Josie,' also twice, with the same rhythm. Then it starts over. Got it?" Some of the more inebriated in the crowd looked at Phil as if she'd grown heads. "But the trick is, you'll be doing this with your lips covering your teeth. Anyone who messes up by smiling and showing their teeth or messing up the rhythm gets a drink of the... _elixir of death._ "

Ruby was the out first, erupting into giggles as soon as Herb passed it along to her, and Diana was not far behind. Anne could hardly control her aching side as she looked around the room, watching knitted brows in concentration and others who looked like they were in pain, trying so hard not to laugh while determinedly keeping their lips over their teeth. Anne almost lost it each time as the group repeated together, "Hubbering Bummies," like some sort of weird, toothless ritualistic cult.

And then there were four. Surprisingly, Charlie stayed in the game, and Anne credited the fact that 'Hovering Bunnies' only had two beats to follow and that Charlie could probably remain serious even if all the comedians in word teamed up to thwart him. Gilbert had made it by sheer determination, and Fred as well, his face red and anxious.

Charlie passed it to Anne with a warbled, "Charwie to Amme," causing Gilbert to spew with roaring laughter. Anne tried helplessly to keep it together, her suppressed laughter erupting with an explosion that felt almost volcanic.

"I'm-sorry-Anne," Gilbert wheezed, getting words out through fits of laughter, "I-just-kept-picturing-Charlie," here the tears started coming, "as-a-baby." A rather horrifying image popped into Anne's mind of a full grown, sparse bearded, goggle eyed Charlie on the frame of a tiny, delicate baby.

Anne sipped her elixir of death through spurts of laughter, too overcome even to reprimand Gilbert for making her lose. Eventually, Phil shut down the game with a bored yawn as Charlie and Fred slowly dueled back and forth with equal robotic quality for so long the end seem too far from sight.

"Now boys and girls, I'm about to announce our last game." Phil said, eliciting a collective aw-ing of dismay from the room. She let out a dramatic sigh over the megaphone. "I know, I know. But I think I've toyed with you poor souls long enough. _But now is not the time to give up!_ " She yelled after spotting some sleepy partiers who successfully were roused from their graves in stark fear.

She continued, "This last one is a team game," and at this she parted the room into two, "It's amazing fun and you're going to love it. You'll sit down in your teams in a straight line, yes, just like that, but facing the other team. Alright, good. Now, hold hands of the person to your left and right." A few whistles rang out as hands were taken.

"Perfect. Now that you're sitting, go ahead and choose a group name for yourself. And make it good, please."

"MAN BEAR PIG!" boomed Craig the football player, followed by a manly thunder of approval. Anne noticed the opposing group mostly consisted of the football team, including Gilbert.

"I am _not_ being on a team named Man Bear Pig," said Josie Pye smugly.

"Too bad, Josie! You're part of us now," said Gilbert with jubilance.

A gruff chant of "Man Bear Pig" broke out as Josie sat with a sour look on her face, but Anne thought she looked secretly pleased to be squashed between two beefy bodies. Looking towards Diana, Anne narrowed her eyes protectively, watching her hold hands with Fred who looked more red than usual and kept sneaking nervous glances at her every few seconds.

"Since our team is obviously more dignified, how about we call ourselves "Canada's Finest?" Stella said haughtily.

"Here, here!" Priscilla responded in her poshest voice, over the roar of "Man Bear Pig" that the guys were now bellowing with strengthening enthusiasm.

"Shut up, you animals!" Phil commanded over the megaphone. "Thank you," she said sweetly with an innocent smile, and then proceeded to explain the rules. "The first person in line will flip a coin, and when they get heads, they will squeeze their partners hand, who passes the squeeze to the end of the line. Once that person feels their hand squeezed, they will run to the front of the room, and whichever team taps this table first gets a point. When the game gets through to the last person, they will run and grab the _feather_ on the table which counts for three points and could potentially save your team if they're losing. Whichever team that has the least points drinks!"

Anne looked across the room to see who she'd be racing to find Gilbert already staring at her with a smirk. When he met her eyes, he gave her one of those infuriating winks of his. She felt her face grow hot, shot him a nasty look, and defiantly kicked off her shoes.

"Ooh, it's getting serious now, isn't it?" he jested.

Her only response was to upturn her nose and strengthen her glare.

"And go!" yelled Phil, and Anne and Gilbert tore their eyes from each other and frantically started flipping their coins as the "Man Bear Pig" chants resumed.

In turn, Stella started singing the National Anthem with a booming, "Ohhh Canada," causing the rest of the team to join in with equal gusto. However, shortly after "Our home and native land," the singing subsided to mumbles since no one could remember all the words, other than Charlie Sloane who sang with such unabashed passion and fervor even the Prime Minister would be proud.

"No, Ruby, not THAT way!" came a yell from Man Bear Pig as Ruby skipped giggly in the opposite direction.

"First point to Canada's Finest!" yelled Phil, and the team burst into cheers.

The two teams battled back and forth for points. Moody led a tipsy Diana to the table, letting her claim that round, and Charlie scored one by tripping on his feet and into the table to his advantage. Priscilla easily outran her opponent with her long legs, and Craig held back a feisty, kicking Stella to claim a cheap point. Suddenly, it was Anne's turn, and with a rush of adrenaline she started to sprint, seeing Gilbert follow her half a second behind, both teams jumping up in anticipation.

"Whoop his butt, Anne!"

"Blythe! Blythe! Blythe!"

"Make your country proud, girl!"

"Get a move on you lazy dog!"

Gilbert was beside her now, and Anne lurched forward, urging herself with the repeated mantra, _Do not lose to Gilbert Blythe_. They both were reaching out, inching closer and closer, and Anne snatched the feather swiftly right under his hand and swung her arm victoriously into the air. As cheers from Canada's Finest clashed all around her, Gilbert heaved deep breaths and laughed as she stuck out her tongue in triumph. His fellow football players jostled and teased him with slaps on the back, shoving a cup in his hands. As he took a drink, he kept his smiling eyes trained on Anne's, and she felt a queer warmness spread in her stomach.

 _It must be the alcohol,_ she thought.

 **...**

 ***Chiclets are a type of gum, but it's also slang for teeth.**

 **And now for a taste of Avonlea...**


	4. Chapter 4

**You are all a dear bunch! I can't thank you enough, again, for all the response. Here's a chapter earlier than expected-it has a very different feel than the last, but I hope you enjoy it.**

 **...**

"Marilla, I'm on video chat," Anne said, trying not to giggle as she watched a close up of Marilla's ear. Even though Anne made calls home since she was a freshman, Marilla had yet to get the hang of FaceTime.

"Oh," said Marilla bashfully, her face coming into view. She tried to hide her slight embarrassment as she put her readers on. "Now how can you tell that it's video?"

"It'll say so on the screen when you answer the call," replied Anne cheerily. Never had the word "cute" crossed her mind as a fitting description for Marilla, but watching her technological befuddlement could not be explained as anything but. She remembered the day the phone company upgraded Marilla's plan to an iPhone and she came home looking flustered and uncomfortable, grumbling about 'All these unnecessary gadgets these days.' When Anne helped her set it up, she miraculously kept her face straight, tears of laughter silently streaming down as Marilla frustratingly jabbed the touch screen keyboard with one index finger, effectively missing each one. It had been a constant source of hilarity since.

"Well, Anne, it's nice of you to call. How is the beginning of the semester going?" Marilla said, holding the phone at an unflattering angle so that Anne could see right up her nose.

"Oh, Marilla, it's been a lovely dream so far. I only could ever imagine going to college, and never got so far as imagining senior year, but now that it's here I can't express how lovely it is. To be surrounded by such dear friends, and reflect just how much we've all grown to get to this point. And see everyone think about their futures, dreaming and preparing, and seeing just how different and diverse we are in what we'd like to do-it's like I'm floating on a cloud of possibilities and if I bore of my own path for even a moment, I can partake of another's. Like Diana-she is planning on where to student teach next year, and the entire world is before her-there are young minds everywhere hungry for knowledge and education and she gets to be the one to stir their appetite. She found an opening in Ukraine, which I think would be the most fascinating experience, and then one in Korea, but she thinks she might want to come back to P.E.I., which is all good too. Sometimes I imagine her kind spirit encouraging and empowering young little ones, giving the gift of writing to a curious little girl who could go on to be a great novelist one day, and it gives me shivers thinking about it. There are so many possibilities to be had and paths to be taken, sometimes it is overwhelming. I have to remind myself it is a great gift and blessing to have so many." Anne said is one gasping, delighted breath.

"But now, please tell me about Green Gables. Oh!" Anne gasped, "And the trees! I forgot about the trees. October really is the best month, isn't it? Kingsport pales in comparison to Avonlea, of course, but the gray cobble stones against the palette of reds and oranges that line the streets really has such a romantic feel. Sometimes I imagine I'm a character in a book living in downtown Paris, going to the daily market through bustling streets lined with autumn trees, buying a basket of fresh flowers and bread for the day, and then I accidentally drop my favorite book with my name inscribed inside, only to be picked up by a sensible, quiet man, who falls in love with the owner just by possessing it, and he searches for me each day to return it."

"Oh, and Marilla, I can't see half of your face anymore, the screen is cutting off half your head. But please, tell me about Green Gables."

Marilla adjusted the phone. "Don't forget to focus on your studies with all that dreaming, Anne," but she smiled proudly through the screen, "All is well here on our part. The smart businesses are sending in their numbers early, preparing for the holidays and getting everything straight before then, so I've been very busy." Marilla was a bookkeeper, and Avonlea's best and most reliable one at that. She never made a mistake and could wade through even the most I'll kept records. Even the most stubborn husbands too prideful to admit they needed some help would come to Marilla to untangle their messes.

"Oh, that's good," Anne said, happy to hear Marilla's business was doing well. Though Marilla would never say it, Anne knew that she was lonely without her home to fill the quiet rooms of Green Gables, "And how is Matthew? Is he home?" she asked.

"Yes, he's here, just cutting wood out back. He's preparing for winter, too, now that harvest is all done for the year," Marilla said, "He'll be in soon enough, I'm sure, but you know him-never one to take breaks."

Anne pictured Matthew, growing older in years, and frowned worriedly. "Do you think he should just buy wood for this winter? I know he likes chopping it himself, but I do worry about him straining himself."

"Don't I know it, Anne, and I tell him this all the time. He is too stubborn, that Matthew, and would never take wood that wasn't chopped with his own hands even if it were free. He's too much of an Islander for that," Marilla shook her head, lips pursed, "but it keeps him active and happy, so maybe there's something to be said for that."

"That's true. I can't help by worrying, though."

Marilla laughed, "He worries the same about you, Anne. Always going on about you working yourself to the bone."

Anne smiled warmly. Marilla and her were close, but there existed a special relationship between her and Matthew. He had such a caring, sweet way of showing Anne what she meant to him. She secretly hoped she never grew up in his eyes.

"Well, now, there's our little girl," Anne heard Matthew say, and while Marilla struggled to adjust the screen she saw flashes of thick flannel, long gray hair, and that shy smile of his peeking in the corner.

"Matthew!" exclaimed Anne delightfully, "We were just talking about you. You have to tell me since you were just outside-what do the trees behind the orchards look like? Are they lovely as I imagine them, like bursting colors of sunset?"

"Well, I suppose they are rather pretty right now," he said.

"Oh perfect," she trilled, "And the path down Lover's Lane? Do all the leaves give the most delicious crunch and rustle as you walk through them?" she asked excitedly.

Matthew looked thoughtful and nodded his head, "I guess I did go walking down there the other day. It was nice, now that I think about it."

Anne sighed with her eyes closed.

"You always did love jumping and skipping through all those autumn leaves when you were little, Anne." Matthew said.

"She's not so little anymore, Matthew," Marilla said, "We've got a grown up, college senior now."

Anne smiled, "You make me sound too much like an adult. I'd like to stay a child for as long as possible. But I do have some exciting news-some very exciting adult news."

"Did a boy catch your eye, Anne?" Matthew asked.

Anne laughed, for this question never failed to come up in conversation each time she called. She thought it might terrify Matthew to death if she said yes one time.

"No, of course not," Anne said, "No boy is worth any of my attention right now," and an image of Gilbert conjured in her mind, but only because he was the perfect example of a boy not worth any attention, Anne thought determinedly.

Matthew looked relieved. "That's good to hear. You don't need any of them right now anyways. There's no need looking. When the right one comes along, you'll know."

"Yes, yes, Matthew, you remind her every time," Marilla said, sounding a bit exasperated, "Go on, Anne."

Anne clasped her hands together, "You know the after school program I've been tutoring at? Well, this week the board offered me the position of after school director now that Miss Stacey is having her baby! Isn't that the best news?"

"Well now, if there'd be anyone good for the job it'd be you, Anne," Matthew said proudly.

Marilla looked more skeptical, "Anne, are you sure you have time for that? With editing the paper as well?"

Despite how excited Anne had been to take the position, Marilla's logical and reasoning voice had pricked in her ear, causing her to pause and contemplate if she could handle another responsibility in her busy schedule. Between classes and homework-that pesky statistics and symbolic logic class was proving to be quite a nuisance-she also was the senior editor at the school's paper, the Redmond Standard, which consumed quite a bit of time. There was also the Poetry and Prose club, as well as various other campus activities, being a good roommate, and making time to see other friends.

"I've thought a lot about it, Marilla, and I think it'll be ok. It's really not many more hours than what I was already doing while tutoring, and it won't feel like work because I do dearly love it so much. There are these two twins I think you would adore, Marilla. One is named Dora, and she the sweetest, most considerate and obedient child I have ever met; she is very much the angel that I was not, but her brother Davy is a whirlwind of mischief. He does try so hard to learn but all of his energy gets in the way. He is always growing and learning, and I like that think that I am being to him what you were to me, Marilla. It's such a wonderful opportunity-I could not think to pass it up."

Marilla seemed more or less satisfied with that answer. Matthew piped in, "Marilla has some news too, Anne."

Marilla gave him a scathing look. "I do not, Matthew. Nothing worth mentioning."

Anne looked between both of them, and Matthew looked as if he were telling a naughty secret. "Marilla's takin' that aerobics class with Mrs. Lynde," he almost whispered.

Anne's hand flew to her mouth to catch an escaping laugh. Rachel Lynde had been attending the aerobics class at the YMCA since before Anne came to Green Gables, and judging by her existing hefty size, it was not a class known for its vigorous cardio exercise. Instead, it had grown in popularity and size for its reputation to be the official headquarters of Avonlea's rumor mill. As the town ladies toned and treaded in the pool, the bi-weekly gossip fest was well under way, and Marilla very well knew this. She'd been rejecting Rachel's invitation to aerobics class for 15 years.

Marilla looked flustered, "It's not all that bad. I know what you two are thinking, but it's good for me to get out and talk with other women. Maybe I wouldn't have to go if _someone_ would talk more around here," and at that she gave Matthew an eye.

"Oh, that really does take the cake," Anne laughed, "We won't tease you too much, Marilla."

Matthew gave a little sneaky smile, "No, or else those town ladies might be talkin' about us next time."

They all laughed together, even Marilla, and Anne looked from one guardian to the other, eyes squinted and smiles wide, captured haphazardly on the screen with Marilla's shaky hand, and could not be more thankful. In all life's ambitions, possibilities, and bends and the road, there was nothing quite as precious as having a home to come back to and somewhere to belong-a place that greeted you with familiarity and warmness no matter how much time had passed between. Anne sat sprawled on her bed in her blue room and watched the gray autumn evening darken its shades into night, feeling a throb of homesickness. Yet, home would be there waiting for her, while her senior year was fleeting and passing through her fingers quickly. As she turned off her lamp, she determined she would savor it to it's last, sweet drop and embrace anything and everything that came her way in the coming year.

 **...**

 **Two things I missed in the later Anne books: Anne's rambling monologues and Matthew's presence. So, I've taken the liberty to bring them back! Gotta love fanfiction.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Wow, has it really been two months since I last updated?! This chapter set me in a bit of a rut, but I made it extra long to make it up to all of you.**

* * *

November rolled around dreary and dismal as ever, and Kingsport faded back to a stony and monotonous gray. The excitement and liveliness of autumn had passed, and there was no doubt to any senior that the seriousness of their last year had settled into reality. Professors expected everything of their students, and assigned homework at such a rate it was if they desired them to be perpetually drowning. Anne was feeling her shoulders creak under the hefting burden of responsibilities and started to wonder what in the world she had been thinking taking on such a load.

But all of November's gloominess was forgotten in Anne's blue room for the night where life was blooming all awash in a gentle lamplight of evening. Now that the library felt more like her permanent residency, she had forgotten the peaceful sanctuary of her home away from home. The blue wallpaper dotted with white buds was outdated, but Anne thought it was the prettiest she'd ever seen- she envisioned she stepped back a century each time she entered. Her window was small and square, but it was delicately framed by creamy eyelet curtains that let in twinkles of sunshine in the morning. Beneath it, an avocado green writing desk she found abandoned on a lawn in the outskirts of Kingsport, and she always felt that only words that were beautiful and profound could be written on it's surface. Upon the windowsill sat her four plant companions-three tiny succulents of purple, green, and orange, and a drooping eucalyptus that tumbled its limbs over the desk. The first quilt Marilla taught Anne to make laid over her bed so that she'd never forget home, and though the bed was narrow and cramped, the masses of squishing pillows made up for it. A colorful woven rug lay on the floor made by Mrs. Lynde's mother during the Depression era, and Anne liked the thought that hundreds of stories were woven together with the scraps saved over time-an old t-shirt, a worn out towel, outgrown baby clothes found in the attic. The rest of the walls were occupied by books, and Marilla had tutted when Anne stuffed one after the other into her car beginning of freshman year, but Anne had responded that she couldn't bear to part with old friends who had been so good to her. Upon their shelves, countless glass bottles of various shapes and sizes held dried flowers she had collected over the years.

"Like the souls of memories," she had murmured one day placing a dusty rose bud into an old glass spaghetti jar. "Faded in freshness but just as sweet."

Tonight, Anne's peaceful blue room was filled to the brim of all Patty's Place residents preparing for the Sonnet Slam Anne would be reciting at. Put on by the Poetry and Prose club, contestants would be reciting a sonnet from memory at The Kind Barista-the coffee shop Gilbert worked at-and the winner would receive an expensive hard bound copy of all of Shakespeare's greatest works. Anne was quite determined to win the prize, which could only be achieved by receiving the highest votes from the crowd. Thus, Anne's nearest and dearest were putting in their part.

" _This,_ is the one," Priscilla said, rifling through Anne's closet and removing a emerald maxi wrap dress and holding it up to Anne, one eye squinted. "This color is divine against your hair."

Anne leaned forward to pinch the light chiffon between her fingers, keeping her head upright as Diana dutifully curled her hair. "I've always loved this dress. I feel like a fairy nymph in it."

Stella emerged from the closet bearing a set of silvery heels and held them up to the dress. "Perfect," she said, and Priscilla gave an enthusiastic murmur of assent.

"Oh, but I always wear my boots with that dress. Barefoot preferably, because I can't envision a fairy nymph wearing shoes, but with the boots I become an elven maiden."

Anne saw Diana scrunch in nose in the mirror's reflection, communicating her uncertainty, but practically conceded, "I guess it's kind of cold to walk in heels."

"Hello, darlings," Phil said with a huff, entering the room carrying a large suitcase and heaving it to the floor. Since Phil and Anne had become fast friends, Phil was present at Patty's Place almost as much as the actual residents and welcomed just as warmly.

"What's with the suitcase?" Stella said, plopping herself with a bounce onto Anne's bed.

"Couldn't decide what to wear. Typical me." She said with an offhand wave, making her way towards Anne and taking her cheeks in her hands like a doting aunt. "But this night isn't about me, it's about you, darling Anne. Are you nervous? Do you need anything-"

"I'm fine," Anne insisted with a playful laugh, pushing Phil's hands away. "I'm more than fine, actually-this whole month has been very Novemberish, but tonight I feel-" she paused with a dreamy look, "I feel like that moment when the power goes out during a wintery storm, the kind that whip wind and rain against the house and whistle through the windows so eerily, and everyone is forced to pause-no opening the fridge, no answering emails-and we bring out the candles and eat peanut butter sandwiches and play board games by flickering candle light-free of computers and the drone of the TV. It reminds you of a simpler time when all we needed was each other and good conversation to find life worthwhile."

Diana paused curling Anne's hair, brow furrowed, "Is there going to be a storm tonight?"

Anne smiled at her friend's reflection warmly, "There's been one all semester, but finally tonight the power is turning off and we'll be able to enjoy each other's presence listening to poetry and forgetting all that's going on outside over candlelight. Do you know what I mean?"

Diana did not, it seemed, if her confused expression and open mouth were any indication.

Phil hurled herself dramatically onto Anne's bed and sighed. "Sometimes, Anne, your words do the craziest things to me, and I have this blazing desire to burn my smart phone and my bra and become a nun in the Swiss Alps or something-"

"I think nuns wear bras," Priscilla said, chin tucked in her hands, "Don't they?"

"I honestly have never thought about a nun's underwear," said Stella.

Diana giggled, "Can you imagine shopping at Target and seeing a nun holding up bras for size?"

"I'd like to think that there's a nun out there who wears the prettiest, frilliest, matching lingerie, just because." Anne said dreamily.

"Oh, that would totally be me," Phil said, then reconsidered, "Who am I kidding, though, I could never be a nun. I like boys too much." She sauntered over to her suitcase and unloaded its contents.

"Is there a guy you haven't dated at Redmond, Phil?" Priscilla teased.

"Oh God, loads," Phil answered, a pool of clothing forming around her, "Can you imagine how exhausting that would be to date them all? An entire school of boys to choose from? I'd rather not shower for a month," she gave a thoughtful grimace and tossed a glittery shirt aside, "That's why I have The List."

"The List?" Diana said.

Priscilla shook her head in with a knowing smile, "It's so Phil."

"It's my dating guideline," Phil said, "Rule number one: He must be loaded enough to make the date interesting. I want to remember the experience, you know? Rule number two: The only exception to being loaded: Obnoxiously good looking. Rule number three: Must be the chasing kind, because if they expect me to be initiating everything, that defeats the whole point of dating. Rule number four: Must be intelligent enough to carry a conversation other than how beautiful I am, blah blah. It's nice to hear it-essential they say it at least once-but more than twice and it gets boring. I once went on a date and all he did was talk about how beautiful I was-the whole time! The whole time I was just like, ok yeah, can we get along with it yet?

"Anyways, the list is near perfect, and you'd be surprised how much it narrows things down. It weeds out all creepers, all the lazy ones, and the stuck up ones, while still keeping a range of variety to keep things interesting."

"Oh, Phil," Stella said, and the girls laughed at Phil's vanity that her made her so lovable.

"Have you ever broken it?" asked Anne.

Phil sighed, "Almost once, but for the very noble cause of Gilbert Blythe."

Anne jerked her head up involuntarily and winced as the hot iron touched her head.

Phil continued, "He's poor as a potato but amazing looking, so that canceled that out. He terribly breaks rule number three, though. And under no circumstance does Philippa Gordon ask out a guy."

"You've never been on a date with Gilbert?" Diana said, looking shocked.

"Are you kidding? _No one_ has been on a date with Gilbert. Probably because just about every girl would keel over and _die_ if he asked them. That's part of why he's so _tantalizing_. And he's always got that look in his eye, like he's hiding a secret that no one knows about but him. It just drives me _crazy-_ but I gave up on him after he told me I remind him of that little dog Paris Hilton carries around." Phil sighed again and examined a skimpy black dress.

Anne felt a hot and prickling sensation creep over her face as Diana picked up another strand. Gilbert, never dating anyone? Then what was he doing, asking her out, whom he barely knew? Perhaps it wasn't a date after all, Anne thought, and felt her flush deepen for so brashly rejecting him. She felt even more foolish as she reflected on the times they'd crossed paths over the month, whether in the cafeteria, between classes, once on the bus, another at the coffee shop-he'd been cordial, waving and addressing her by name as he said hello and she ignored him, but nothing more. This whole time, he was probably mocking her, delighting that one more girl was obsessed with him when she had been trying to communicate the exact opposite. How humiliating.

"All done," Diana said, fluffing Anne's curls and awakening her from her embarrassment. Pushing thoughts of Gilbert from her head, Anne slipped on the dress and let her red locks spill loosely past her shoulders. Phil took one look at her, gasped, and ran downstairs, with a hurried, "Stay right there," and thrust an apple into Anne's hands when she came back.

"Now hold it out to me, and say, 'Take a bite,' in the most menacing way you could possibly handle." Phil said.

Anne gave Phil a look but did as she was told regardless.

Phil let out a rambunctious laugh, "Ooh, I can just picture you as a wicked queen, enticing me to eat this poisoned apple. But you're just too sweet to ever be wicked," and she snatched the apple from her hands. "No, I've decided your a mermaid, goddess of the sea. No!" she clapped her hands together, snatched a sprig from Anne's eucalyptus, formed it into a wreath and attached it to Anne's head. "Yes, perfect." Phil breathed, "You are Queen Anne, guardian of the forest. Isn't that perfect?" she asked, turning to Diana.

"Oh, Anne, you really do look like a fairy or something," Diana said proudly, admiring her work.

Anne took a look in the mirror and adjusted her makeshift wreath. She expected it to look silly, but was pleased to find it fit with her outfit in a Grecian sort of way.

"Well, I might as well wear sweatpants," said Phil, looking back at her clothes strewn about encircling her suitcase, "There's no point in trying to compare to you, Queen Anne."

The girls piled into The Kind Barista, hurriedly scooting out of the cold air and shutting the door with a jangled tinkle.

Anne let out a gasp as she looked around the room. Under the twinkling lights that were strung about the walls was a packed crowd of people, so many that the usual soothing music was drowned by the loud buzz of talk. The room had been rearranged so the cozy couches, plump chairs, and mismatched kitchen furniture were jumbled together with added folding chairs in between, pointed towards a podium wrapped in more twinkling lights and bright, kitschy carnations. Almost all the chairs were occupied, and pairs were leaning up against the walls and chattering.

"It's ok darling," Phil soothed in Anne's ear after seeing her shocked face, taking her hand, "You are going to do great. All these people have nothing on Queen Anne."

Anne looked over the crowd bewilderedly, "I-I thought that this was a small thing-like ten or so artsy misfits would show up to listen, not this-"

"Shhh," Phil soothed.

"I'm going to forget my lines-"

"No you're not, you crazy woman," Phil said, "And even if you do, and the apocalypse also happens, I'm giving you a ten."

Anne opened up her mouth to protest.

"Anne!" Gilbert said, pulling off Anne's coat gently from her shoulders that she was struggling to wrestle out of. He took a quick glance at the dress that wrapped perfectly snug against her small waist and the neckline that exposed a delicate collarbone. "You look fantastic-are you performing?"

Gilbert was placing her coat on the rack before Anne could form a response.

"Uh, yes," she stuttered out intelligently, "And, um, thanks," she grimaced, hoping that she would remember more words than "um," and "uh," on stage. Her eyes flitted nervously towards Diana, who was watching them with eyebrows raised, then turned to follow Stella, Priscilla, and Phil to find seats.

"Awesome," Gilbert said, shoving hands into his apron and giving her a wide smile, "I'm really excited to hear it. Hey, let me get you a drink-tea, right? Chai tea?"

Anne glanced back to Gilbert's anticipating eyes trained on hers.

"Oh," she said, giving her head a small shake. "Sure, that'd be great," she said slowly.

Phil's words from earlier came back to her and she examined Gilbert, eyes following him in confusion as he rushed through the crowd back to the barista counter.

She made her way to the contestants' table while a conversation she had with Matthew back in high school popped into her mind.

"Anne, remember this," Matthew had said, "You'll know a real gentlemen if he opens the door for you and helps take your coat off."

Anne laughed. "But Matthew, boys don't help girls with their coats anymore. And girls open the door for guys just a much as they do for girls."

Matthew looked troubled. "Well now, I dunno about that. But you'll know you've got a good one if he's polite."

Anne sank into her chair with a smile remembering Matthew's simple logic that hardly convinced her. She looked at the other contestants around the cramped table-one was Charlie Sloane, leaning over a crumpled, well folded piece of paper, eyes bugging and lips moving in trancelike concentration. Jane Andrews was looking at her phone with a strained look on her face and gave Anne a delicate wave, and a pretty girl Anne remembered as Christine chatted amiably with the table across from them. The other reclined casually, a small dusty book propped up on his knee. Her eyes lingered over his striking features and crisp jacket.

 _"Sleek,_ " Anne whispered to herself below the din of the crowd, elongating the word and feeling it tumble on her tongue, relishing how well the word fit the subject. Whoever he was, he made a perfect onomatopoeia*.

"Anne, you look _exhausted."_

Anne turned to see Josie Pye's pinched face pouted with sympathy, clutching on to the hand of Craig the football player as he absently scrolled through his phone, his burly self tucked neatly into a button up and looking like a school boy combed, scrubbed, and uncomfortable for Sunday morning. Anne was surprised to see either of them present that night.

"I do?" She asked weakly, bringing an absent hand to her cheek insecurely and feeling even more out of place.

"Well, good thing there's coffee!" Josie let out a shrill laugh.

"Ruby was telling me how you're just killing yourself being in the library all the time and working two jobs. She was just so worried. I mean, I know the semester sucks for everyone, but Anne," she tilted her pristine head and wrinkled delicately shaped brows together, "Don't forget to take care of yourself."

Anne always felt the sense that Josie had a way of feigning sympathy cloaked in something more sinister and gleaned she didn't care one bit about her. She _was_ tired, too tired to give Josie anything more than an unconvincing grimace of a smile.

Gilbert slid a mug of steaming tea towards her and took a seat beside, giving her a lopsided grin to match his lopsided cap. She let out a murmur of thanks.

"Nervous?"

Josie's words pricked like a day old razor cut as she glanced about the bustling room. A feeling of despair settled in comfortably. She thought of her rambles back in the blue room, sharing poetry over candlelight, sheltered from the raging storm outside. How foolish they sounded now-this was nothing like that. She thought of her peaceful room filled with safe haven of friends and wished she had stayed. Not like she wanted Gilbert to know that, though. She took a deep breath and aligned her shoulders haughtily.

"Of course not."

Gilbert leaned back on his chair, hands cradling his head and widening his grin. "Figured. I doubt there's anything Anne Shirley is afraid of." Anne took a gulp and hoped that her stubbornness could fool the rest of the room as well.

Two taps sounded from the podium's microphone and Ron Stuart, president of the Poetry and Prose club, attempted to gather the attention of the large crowd before him.

"Ladies and gents, welcome. I can't say we've ever had a better turn out at our Sonnet Slams-usually it's just the club and a few supportive moms who show up."

A tittering of chuckles rose from the crowd. Anne couldn't agree with Ron more and wondered what had possessed such a large crowd to arrive. She struggled between feeling proud that the club's event was so highly attended, but also felt like her home was being violated by uninvited guests.

"So here's how the night works: Each of you in the audience will be a judge of each of contestant. After each recitation, we'll hear from the Redmond Jazz Band, which gives you a couple of minutes to fill out your scoring rubric, get a drink, and mingle. There are three categories to be graded on; voice and articulation, dramatic appropriateness, and overall performance. The contestant with the most points added together wins. Let's give a hand to the first out of six contestants, Charlie Sloane!"

Applause broke out as Charlie shuffled to the podium looking very pale and clutching his crumpled piece of paper firmly. Anne looked around the table counting only five contestants. Unless-

"Are you performing?" She hissed a whisper towards Gilbert.

He smirked, bringing one finger to his lips in shushing motion and gave her a wink.

Anne was now _very_ glad she had not revealed how nervous she was.

But she had no time to dwell on the budding rivalry between her and Gilbert-Charlie had shakily dedicated his poem to, "A very special female," and thus proceeded to recite "Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?" In a loud voice, keeping the rhythm in such a way it sounded as if he were reciting while riding a horse. Anne could even see his foot tapping along that matched his bobbing head. Even worse, though, was that he had turned such a way and stared Anne straight in the eye-as if reciting _to_ her!

Anne shrunk into her chair, mortified, awkwardly trying to look anywhere but towards Charlie. She caught Gilbert's eye, who was glancing from Charlie to Anne and looking like he was trying very hard to contain laughter. She decided to direct her glare towards him.

Finally, it was over, and as polite applause echoed across the room Anne heard a girl behind her say, "That was so cute."

Gilbert elbowed Anne and with a wicked grin nodded in agreement, giving Charlie his most raucous applause and causing Anne to glare even harder.

Following Charlie came Christine, who gave a delightful and humorous rendition of "My mistress' eyes," followed by Jane's grave and holy "Batter my heart, three person'd God."

Anne felt herself settle with ease as the night progressed, seeing the eager and kind faces of the audience scrunched on couches, crowded among tables, looking pleasantly aglow under the twinkling lights strung around them, faces upturned and captivated by each reading like children gathered for an evening story. Even Josie Pye's usual sour expression was softened to only slight distaste. Anne let out a contented sigh-causing a sharp glance towards her from Gilbert-with the sensation of settling into a warm bath after dinner. Yes, this night would be and had been the balm in this chapped November.

Even Gilbert was a tolerable table mate. She was surprised to see how entranced with the night he was, sitting in rapt attention and making an insightful comment after each recitation, leaning down to Anne's ear so she could hear him over the applause.

Then it was his turn. As Ron introduced Gilbert, an almost deafening roar rippled across the room and Anne felt she was sinking again watching Gilbert smile and wave to the ecstatic crowd like some sort of celebrity.

Of course, they were here for him.

Gilbert Blythe, the most well liked guy on campus, the one who was friends with everyone. Frustration simmered inside her-this wasn't some sort of popularity contest-this was art, a night to give tribute to the greatest poet's of time, a time to revel and soak in society's most moving and beautiful words-

Then Gilbert spoke in his clear and captivating voice and a shush blanketed across the room as enraptured faces drank in his recitation of "Remember." It was powerful, Anne admitted, as his pleading voice asked for remembrance in a time when he was remembered no more. _God, he's good_ , she thought disdainfully, but made sure to look very interested in her own passage as she felt his eyes rove over her.

Then it was her turn, and Anne strode to the front with shoulder's back, only slightly aware of the quieter response than Gilbert received, other than Phil's obnoxious screams. It was no matter because she would win the hearts of the crowd not by popularity, but by the power of voice and poetry. She took in the attentive faces turned towards hers, finding professors she knew, and some classmates she recognized, ready and anticipating. She squared her shoulders, straightened her back and took in a deep breath, gathering to herself the buzzing electricity that blanketed the room.

Someone in the crowd coughed.

Anne caught Gilbert's eye in the silence, leaning forward with elbows on knees, hands clasped, playful smile on his lips. She breathed away any remaining kindling of nervousness and commenced "Death be not proud" with such passion and force she felt her words were conquering death itself. When her eyes met Gilbert's again, his small smile had been extinguished by the icy chill that her performance sent through him, mesmerized by the eerie and commanding voice of the creature who stood before him.

A stunned crowd burst into applause and Anne settled back into her chair feeling as if she were floating back to earth like a winter's first lazy snow.

"Anne, you were incredible!"

"That was so powerful!"

"You really have a gift."

"Brilliant! Majestic! Beautiful!" Phil clawed dramatically at Anne, kissing both of her cheeks. "And you thought you were going to forget your lines you precious little-"

"I swear you rose some people from the dead with that, Anne!" Pris said, squeezing a hug in between Phil's clinging figure.

Diana gave Anne a soft look that communicated all the love, pride, and affection that only a best friend can in one glance and gave her a tight hug.

Music from the band started up again and Anne busied herself talking with an excited Moody Spurgeon about the Hebrew concept of death in the Psalms, insistent on distracting herself while others cast in their votes.

Within a few passing moments, Ron resumed his place at the podium with the results, Anne waiting with abated breath-at least Moody would be an encouraging person to sit next to as she received the bad news. It irked her to no end to think if Gilbert had beat her-but oh, it was inevitable, with all these people and his popularity...

But Ron was calling _her_ name to the front-she'd done it! She grasped her new copy of Shakespeare's works adoringly to her chest as her friends rained upon her their second wave of affection. Proud professors gave their best wishes and firm handshakes, and she found her self waltzing across the room, receiving congratulations from various people and gushing about poetry with acquaintances from class.

The night started to wind to a close and the Kind Barista's tinkling door sent student's back into the cold air. Anne searched the room for Diana only to meet eyes with Gilbert across the room, craning his head over the thinning crowd. He gave a wide smile and a slight wave as he started making his way through the dense group of people, rubbing shoulder to shoulder.

"Salut, Anne," a low voice said.

Anne turned around to meet the eyes of the contestant who had so caught her attention with his apt sleekness. She glanced quickly back to Gilbert, who had halted with a look that might be, what-disappointment?

"Est-ce que tu te souviens de moi? Nous avons eu la classe debutant un ensemble," he said.

Her mind stuttered to translate with her very rusty French- _do you remember the beginner class we had together_ -she looked at the handsome, clean cut man before her with the sculpted tapered hair and the tortoise shell glasses and vaguely remembered her old French class partner with long scruffy hair and a conch necklace and realized they were one of the same.

" _Roy_? Roy _Gardner_? Uh, wow-you, desole, tu est vraiment different!"

"Oui, Oui, je sais," he said with a small grimace, "Sorry, don't mean to catch you off guard. I honestly miss speaking French a lot. I wanted to say hi, though. It's really good to see you again."

Anne sat agape, stunned at the transformation. _Even his voice is deeper._

"Did you go somewhere? I haven't seen you around Redmond in years," she finally stuttered out.

"I've been in Paris, studying abroad. I was just going for a semester at first, but it was such a transformational experience I stayed for two years. My father always said everything refined comes out of Europe, but I think in my case Europe really refined me."

"I'd say you're living proof of that," said Anne, "I always dreamed of going to Europe-especially Spain. Now you've inspired me."

"Oh, you'll have to go," his eyes pleaded, "Your performance tonight showed you were made for that land. It was... _ethereal_ watching you."

Anne felt her cheeks rise in color at his passionate words, "You were excellent too," she said awkwardly, even though she couldn't remember his sonnet.

They shared a few words about their favorite parts of the performance and Roy gave his goodbyes. Anne walked back to the table to retrieve her belongings, and noticed a slip of paper sticking out of her newly won book.

 _Anne with an E,_

 _Just wanted to say you gave a stunning piece, and looked quite stunning giving it._

It was signed with only a smiley face, but Anne didn't have a doubt of who wrote it.

* * *

*onomatopoeia: Webster defines as "the naming of a thing or action by a vocal imitation of the sound associated with it (such as buzz, hiss). Terrible to spell, horrible to pronounce, but it might be my favorite literary device and I think Anne would like it too.

"Shall I compare thee to a summer's day" by William Shakespeare

"My mistress' eyes" by William Shakespeare

"Batter my heart, three person'd God" by John Donne

"Remember me" by Christina Rossetti

"Death be not proud" by John Donne

 **I would, as always, love to hear your thoughts!**


	6. Chapter 6

All thanks and gratitude to L.M.M. for her fantastic writing and spectacular characters to which these belong. This chapter contains some similar wording to hers, and I'm confident you faithful Anne-girls will be able to tell from which chapter.

* * *

"Alright, so Colin Firth or Matthew MacFadyen?" Anne asked.

"Uh, Matthew MacFayden, forever." Priscilla said. "All that broodiness, tension, and awkwardness. He is perfection."

Stella looked offended. "You've got to be kidding-"

"Ooh, yes, that scene in the rain was _so_ romantic," added Diana, "And you could really see him falling in love. Like that other time when she went to his mansion he was so excited and happy to introduce his sister to her. _So_ sweet. Oh, and then when he ran out after her even though he didn't have to. The other one was just so..." She paused with her nose wrinkling in distaste. "Stiff."

"But that rain scene wasn't even in the book!" protested Stella.

"It should have been!" Priscilla said, causing Stella to stare horrified at such a blasphemous statement.

Anne smiled watching the heated debate unfolding before her. Of course, it was all in good fun, and she was very grateful her friends could tease one another so amiably. She was more thankful that she had learned long ago to express her strong and decided opinions while keeping her temper in check and holding an overall good humor. That lesson was learned after a heated argument that took place at Tillie Boulter's birthday party when the cake was being cut. Anne gave a thorough, and what she thought was a convincing argument that _Aquamarine*_ had no scope for the imagination-which so happened to be Tillie's favorite movie. She burst into tears, not able to take one bite of her piece, and Mrs. Boulter promptly called Marilla to pick Anne up. Anne was ushered out the door shortly after, meeting Marilla's grim lined face with pink balloon in hand.

"But it _doesn't_ have any scope for the imagination-which is such a shame, because mermaids have such a rich and robust mythological history. They are such mysterious and beautiful creatures-"

"Some people just like what they like, and you have to respect that, Anne." Marilla said, looking at Anne from the rear view mirror of the car tiredly. It had been a year since Anne came to stay with her and Matthew and in that year Anne had found herself in a multitude of scrapes, almost all of them unintentionally. She knew Anne had not a harsh bone in her body, but she often got so caught up in her imagination and ideas she had little awareness of her surroundings. But, after she was able to get Anne off the subject of mermaids and onto the topic of Tillie's feelings, the girl was horrified to learn how deeply she had offended her friend and wanted to call her right then and there to apologize, even if she couldn't fully repent from her opinion of the movie.

Stella huffed, finally recovering from her horror. "It was so unrealistic, not to mention it would have been _completely_ scandalous in that time period. Colin Firth _is_ Mr. Darcy. He portrayed every scene just like I imagined it. For the record, he's _supposed_ to be stiff-"

"No way. Colin Firth was weird," Priscilla shot back. "He stared way too much, and he has the emotional capacity of a table. It was like he was attending the funeral of his accountant when he got married,"

"Oh, but that was just him being reserved," said Anne, "Sorry Pris," she gave her friend a warm smile who rolled her eyes and muttered "Men," with a scoff.

It was Friday night and Anne's blue room was occupied with the roommates of Patty's Place plus Phil, lounging on top of as much blankets and pillows to keep an army warm and crowding around a box of pizza on elbows. The five didn't see each other much during the week while being busy seniors, but Friday pizza and movie night had become a habit at Patty's Place, thanks to Phil who "knew a guy" at Anthony's Pizzeria. He "horribly flunks" rules one and two on The List, as Phil would say, for prospects were low for a pie maker and he had a look about him as if his face were always covered with a sheen layer of grease. Unfortunately for him, he was crazy about Phil and would make her pizzas for eternity if she asked.

"He's _obviously_ out of the question, but I SO appreciate he's stayed faithful as Michael and never desecrated his image by abbreviating to Mike," Phil had explained. "Michael has that hot, powerful archangelic vibe to it - really forgives a lot."

Thanks to Michael, the girls were quickly consuming a large supreme with extra cheese. It had already been decided that Pride and Prejudice was tonight's movie of choice, but the room had conflicting ideas about which one.

"What do you think, Phil?" Anne asked.

"Oh no," she groaned, "I was hoping you wouldn't ask me. You can't expect me to pick."

"Come on Phil, we're tied here." Stella coaxed.

Priscilla grabbed her pizza-free hand, "Listen to your heart. You know which one."

Phil nodded, "I do like a shy boy, and Matthew was definitely that. He had all that intensity and passion that just makes you want to squirm-"

Cheers of victory sounded from Diana and Priscilla.

Phil continued, "But with Colin, you really get the time to love him as he turns from prideful prick Colin into a soft, squishy in-love Colin. That scene after a swim-such a dear little wet puppy! But Matthew had such dreamy eyes. And I honestly could not look past Colin's sideburns-like hairy sausages crawling down his face, although he has the cutest, pudgy little cheeks. Oh, this is even worse than picking between Alec and Alonzo. Help me, Anne!" she cried dramatically, clinging to Anne's arm.

"That was _definitely_ way more in favor of Colin," cried Stella, and her, Pris, and Diana started to argue over the merits of Phil's words.

Anne pet Phil's smooth hair as if tending to a distraught child, "I think the only way to settle this is by watching them back-to-back, marathon style."

So it was decided. It didn't matter that it was already 9:00 pm and everyone was already in their pajamas, the girls set into a frenzy to battle it out - Stella sculpted the nest of pillows and blankets to face towards Anne's laptop, Phil and Priscilla ran across campus in search for both of the films, Diana set into the kitchen to make popcorn and her famous box brownies, and Anne rushed to the grocery store for time-period appropriate snacks of tea cookies, biscuits, and earl grey that would sustain them throughout the night.

Slipping into the first pair of shoes she found, Anne dove out the door and hopped into her car with thoughts hardly in the present, switching on the ignition and scraping the crystallized windshield by mere habit.

"And this is the reply I am to expect?"* she said, conjuring her best impression of a clipped British accent, wielding the ice scraper like a pointing finger. "I might wonder why, with so little effort at civility, I am rejected?"

She turned aside, face morphing into a dramatic scoff, "And I might wonder why, with so evident of a desire to offend and insult me, you chose to tell me that you like me against your will!"

She flung the car door open, jabbed the ice scraper into the air and shouted menacingly into the air, "I have every reason to think ill of you!" and zoomed out of the parking lot in a fashion she thought appropriate for a woman who had just received the greatest insult via marriage proposal.

"And this is your opinion of me," she said low and icy, picturing the scene now as if the bickering couple were forced to enter the same carriage - or better yet, a modern day version in a London taxi! Yes - the flashing of the overhead street lights matching the flashes of fire in their eyes.

"Did you expect _me_ to _rejoice_ in the _inferiority_ of your _connections_?" She was enjoying channeling a prideful English man with her own added inflections.

"You're mistaken, Mr. Darcy," she rolled up his name on her tongue and spat it out, repeating the action multiple times just for the thrill of sounding as disgusted as she possibly could. "From the very beginning, your manners impressed me with the fullest belief of your arrogance, your conceit, and you're selfish disdain-"

She didn't have a chance to complete her sharp accusations, for she was shaken from her trance with a gasp as the car made a startling clunking sound that shook the vehicle with terrifying thumps.

" _No, no, no_ ," Anne squealed, watching smoke emit from the hood with fear. She pulled quickly to the side of the road, turning off the ignition just in time for the car to give out one last spew of exhaustion.

Anne sat in shock, her rapid breath coming out as icy puffs, the only sound now a wearied ticking. Blinking and shaking her head, she stepped out of the car and took in her surroundings - just where had she gotten herself? She was on the high way, that was for sure, but there were no exit signs in sight to indicate her location - just dark fields on either side of the road, the remaining dead stalks coated frostily, illuminated by the lights of the occasional car that whooshed past.

"Oh, Anne," she muttered frustratingly to herself, "What were you thinking?"

She reached back into the car to get her phone and call Diana, only to pat around the passenger car seat, with another gasp, to find nothing. A sickening feeling washed over her-she had rushed out of the apartment in giddy haste and forgotten her phone.

Panic settled into her stomach as she realized how stupid she was, not paying attention to where she was going, getting lost after dark, and how dangerous the situation had become. Just how long would she have to wait until some kind soul pulled over to help her? And would their help be welcome?

Anne took a deep breath and climbed dejectedly back into the car. _Only me_ , she thought, would get into a scrape like this, and she could picture Marilla's shaking head of disapproval at her carelessness. The "if only"s starting shooting off in her mind as a car's wheels crunched along the shoulder's gravel behind her, lights shining in her rear view.

Anne stepped out of the car tentatively, shielding her eyes from the piercing headlights, grasping the ice scraper as her only weapon and very aware that she was a lone, vulnerable female without a way to contact anyone in the middle of the night. As they opened the door, she chanted frantic prayers that this person was not one with bad intentions.

 _Oh_.

Anne felt a wave of relief wash over her while simultaneously groaning inwardly as Gilbert Blythe leaped down from his truck and took a full look at her fuzzy pink cat print pajamas tucked haphazardly into Diana's red rain boots, oversized t-shirt, and hair piled onto her head in a lopsided messy bun, and smirked.

"Anne Shirley," he said, shaking his head with that crooked grin. "Fancy seeing you here." He regarded to her outfit, "Got lost on your way to bed?"

"I was getting groceries," she said hotly, trying to keep her dignity intact despite that her face most likely matched the shade of her boots. Probably her hair too, now that she thought of it. A red and pink blob in the form of Anne Shirley, right in front of Gilbert Blythe. _Perfect._

"Grocery shopping at nine at night," Gilbert stated, looking skeptically amused. He looked around at their surroundings, "And just what grocery store were you going to? We're on the outskirts of Kingsport."

Anne shut her eyes and groaned, as if the situation weren't already humiliating enough.

"I, um, wasn't paying attention to where I was going." Anne said, thinking with embarrassment of her proposal scene depiction. At least he hadn't seen _that._

Gilbert laughed, "I can see that! So what happened to your car?"

Anne explained the symptoms, and was surprised to see Gilbert climb back into his truck for a flashlight, and then crawl down to examine underneath her car.

"Well, it looks like the radiator blew out." He said, voice muffled from underneath. She could hear him tinkering around. "Could be a couple other things, too."

Anne gulped, thinking about the expensive car repairs she didn't have money for. "Like what?"

At her worried tone he peeked his head from the under belly and gave her a reassuring look. "Nothing too major. Just little things here and there." He crawled back out, opened up the hood, and rolled up his sleeves, poking and prodding at the mess of steaming metal, muttering things here and there that sounded a lot like "black gunk" and "fuse damage," which to Anne sounded like a death sentence.

Gilbert shut the hood with a small tap, turned to a worried Anne and gave a cheery smile like only a future doctor could while bearing bad news.

"Nothing a good afternoon's work couldn't fix - if you'll let me," he added quickly. "But, you definitely can't drive this thing back. Luckily that won't be a problem!" he said, bounding back towards his truck, jumping swiftly into the back and rummaging around, emerging with a hefty rope.

"What-what are you doing?" Anne said, not liking that she felt as if Gilbert were tugging her every which way to keep up.

He looked up from his crouching position at the back hitch to find her wide eyed and bewildered - a surprising look for Anne Shirley.

He straightened, abandoning the complicated mass of knots he was tying and tried to give his most comforting smile. "Getting you home. Thankfully I have some towing equipment. Not the safest thing in the world, but it'll do for a couple of kilometers."

Anne felt a prick of annoyance at all the smiling, reassuring, and handy work he was doing. "Thank you, but I'm sure I can figure it out. If I could just use your phone - "

Gilbert took a look at her hand on her hip. "I really don't mind. I'm not in a hurry, and this way you won't have to pay for a tow truck," he reasoned.

As much as she wanted to protest, she reluctantly let him hook onto the back of her car, bumper to bumper.* After Gilbert rejected her multiple offers for help, a useless feeling Anne climbed into the pickup, her pajamas snagging on the cracked surface of the tan leather seats, watching Gilbert push her car against his own with ease. It wasn't long until he slid inside the truck beside her.

As they slowly went down the dark road, the only noise was the gentle chugging of the old vehicle and Gilbert's rhythmic taps along the steering wheel to nothing in particular. Anne felt the tension of the ride slowly creeping up her arms like wading into cold water, and when she felt she couldn't take it anymore, she jabbed a finger to the radio button, only to be embarrassingly told it was broken.

"It leaves room for good conversation, though, or a good silent reflection while driving through fields and forests," said Gilbert, defending his beloved truck.

Anne fidgeted with the crack in the seat below her thighs, picking out pieces of foam. She felt robbed, his words sounding like something she would say, and she takes them up like a challenge.

"Alright, then tell me why _you_ were out so late?"

Gilbert rolled up his sleeves to his flannel shirt, even though it appeared the heat didn't work either. "I'm just driving home for the weekend."

"Is your family from Kingsport?"

He laughed. "Far from it, about three hours away-"

" _Three hours_?" squeaked a mortified Anne. Over her dead body would she let Gilbert Blythe, of all people, do something that put her so deeply in his debt. She was suddenly aware of just how small she was in comparison to the truck's large cabin, and how Gilbert seemed to fit just right, and the desire to _get out now_ grew. Better on her own than owing him anything.

"Just drop me off here, just on the side is fine, and if you don't mind me using your phone I'll just call Diana and she'll get me a tow truck, it'll be no problem-"

" _What?"_ Gilbert cut off her rambling but pulled the truck over nonetheless and turned towards her with a preposterous look. "That makes absolutely no sense."

"What makes no sense is you going out of your way on a three hour trip!"

Gilbert regarded her tense body and fiery eyes and lowered his voice. "Anne, if you feel at all uncomfortable being around me then please tell me and I'll call an Uber for you."

Anne's eyes widened in surprise - though she didn't necessarily like being in Gilbert's presence, it didn't seem fair to ascribe him as unsafe.

"I didn't mean _that-"_ she huffed.

 _"_ Then just you sit tight, Anne Shirley. I know you're stubborn, but so am I, and I'm bringing you home. It just makes sense. I'm not leaving you on the side of the road."

"But-"

"Nope."

Anne steamed in her chair, the fiery look returning with fervor when Gilbert started to smile, one sturdy arm draped over the steering wheel and looking completely at ease. After some reluctance, a lot of glares, exasperations, failed negotiations, and general stubbornness, Gilbert happily shifted into drive and carefully pulled back onto to the road with Anne's consent.

Heaving a long sigh with arms crossed, Anne resolved to not be a damsel in distress that cowered in awkward silence.

"So, do you have a girlfriend you're desperate to see, or something?"

Gilbert gave her a surprised glance and sputtered out a definite " _No_."

"It's because my dad's not in the best shape. He's got some respiratory issues, but he's a farmer and needs a lot of help getting stuff all ready for winter. I've been going home each weekend to help out," he said when he recovered.

It was now Anne's turn to give a surprised glance. It was clear she knew very little about Gilbert. "That's a huge commitment."

Gilbert shrugged. "It's family, you know? I really owe it to them...my parents don't have much money but they've been so supportive of me going to a big school and all the work it takes to become a doctor and all. Some people in our community look down on that but they haven't been anything but encouraging. It would feel wrong to not be thankful and grateful and do my part."

He was silent for a moment and let out a breathy laugh. "Sorry, I don't know why I'm talking so much."

"No, it's ok," Anne said quietly. She could feel a fresh bruise of guilt forming for judging Gilbert so harshly as arrogant and self centered in the past. She felt like a fraud in her own skin, for wasn't she the one who coaxed the best to come to the surface in others? Isn't that what Matthew always said?

Gilbert cleared his throat. "So tell me about journalism. Usually people who write are pretty passionate about it. Where did that start for you?"

Anne sat pensively. "I guess I've always had a love for stories. As a kid they opened up an entire world of dreams and possibilities - a bleak world can be turned into a place with color and beauty and _poetry._ I love hearing other people's stories and discovering what stirs their soul. You can really find kindred spirits anywhere, if you know where to look."

She perked up in her seat, an ease smoothing out the tension in her shoulders. "Maybe it's too lofty, but my dream would be to travel the world and share the stories of those small pockets where no one thinks to look for beauty."

Gilbert took a glance at her with a small smile. "That's really incredible. The world definitely needs more beauty."

Anne sighed, "Oh, but it already has that, don't you see? But it's as if a fine layer of dust has covered it all and we've forgot about it entirely. It just needs to be unearthed and polished off."

Gilbert smiled contently and paused. "I like that."

Anne shifted uncomfortably in her chair, feeling a sudden urge to change the subject and inquired when he decided he wanted to pursue medical studies.

"Well, it definitely started when my dad started having health troubles. He's always had a hard time, even when I was a kid. I just always wanting to be able to do something really practical to help him. My uncle was a big influence too, since he's a doctor, and seeing him be such a pillar in the community was really inspiring. He'd always help families after hours and was so giving of his time. But that's PEI for you-"

"You're from PEI, too!" Anne blurted out.

"You're an Islander? That's fantastic!" Gilbert answered with equal excitement. "See, I always knew there was something cool about you, Anne."

She ignored his last comment. "No one knows how wonderful it is, do they? At least I have Diana and Priscilla, and Novia Scotia has its pockets too. But it just doesn't compare," she said, with a dejected shake of her head.

"Hey, at least it's not Toronto," Gilbert said with a knowing voice.

They both shuddered, for neither could think of anything worse than moving to that metropolis of smog and metal.

They both gushed to one another about their favorite Island spots-Anne starting with her beloved Avonlea. Turns, out, Gilbert's father was from Avonlea and they were both familiar with its dear nooks and crannies, but Gilbert used their dull names, such as Barry's Pond, which Anne corrected vehemently.

"There's this path just outside Avonlea with these apple trees on either side creating a canopy - a cathedral, really, of blossoms," Anne was shaking her head in violent approval, urging him to continue. "The Avenue, I think it's called?"

Anne groaned in despair, and Gilbert laughed at her as she lamented that the White Way of Delight's legacy was remembered with such a disappointing name. Despite his blunders, Anne was satisfied that he could recall how the strawberry apples in his grandparent's orchard were the sweetest he ever had.

"My dad misses Avonlea a ton. But, he had some land in Glen St. Mary that he acquired in the 80s and couldn't turn that down. He said it was just as well because he had 'a heck of a fiery ex girlfriend back in Avonlea.' His words, not mine." he added.

"Really?" Anne asked with a giggle, picturing a young, plump, and raging Rachel Lynde slapping clean across a face that resembled Gilbert's.

He spoke of his favorite memories in the Glen; jumping off the rugged red cliffs in summer, right into the swirling sea with the sounds of seagulls, the warm sun beating on his back and the gusting winds whipping his hair. Anne rubbed her eyes for she felt like she was waking up, wiping away the crust that clouded them, causing the morning light to come into focus. It was how she felt listening to Gilbert's memories, arms relaxed and a laugh on his lips, in his own truck, on his way back home to play the dutiful son. Of course he was an Island boy - and remembering her own words, she felt she had met another kindred in the most unlikely place.

As they neared Redmond, Anne guided Gilbert to her apartment and they worked together to claw at the rope's knots that were now coated in stubborn ice.

"Gilbert," she started, shifting uncomfortably as they stood face to face between their unbound cars. "I really can't thank you enough for helping me - and taking so much time out of your night with a long drive ahead and all. I really do appreciate how generous you've been."

She stretched out her hand in humble apology, remembering all the rude remarks and glares she had been giving him since September and not quite meeting his eyes.

Gilbert took her hand eagerly, the action giving him a moment to find his voice.

"It really wasn't overly generous, just the right thing to do. I really am happy I could help, Anne. Does this mean we're friends now, and you'll forgive me for that stupid moment at the coffee shop?"

Anne laughed, keenly aware that Gilbert still grasped her hand.

"It's probably about time I did. I was the stupid one, and I hate to say I judged you horribly after that. I honestly feel so guilty for being such a rude, stuck up little turd."

"A turd! Well, I think we're going to be great friends - us Islanders have to stick together, you know. I really think we can help each other a lot to stay focused this year, too. How about when I get back we meet up to study together?"

This time Anne gratefully accepted and entered the house in quiet contentment, after she made sure Gilbert would spend some time among the P.E.I pines for her over the weekend. She certainly was happy that Gilbert appeared to have abandoned his flirty ways, she told Diana late that night in the dark, moments before they submitted to sleep on the cocoon of pillows.

Anne nestled her head in the crook of her elbow, eyelids heavy. "The road ahead to graduation is going to be filled with stones and snagging tree roots, I just know it, Diana. But it will be much pleasanter with a new friend tripping alongside."

* * *

* _Aquamarine_ is an American-Australian film from 2006. It conjures up all things middle school. Sorry Tillie, but I have to side with Anne on this one.

*Quotes taken from Pride and Prejudice 1995 TV series

*I know basically zero about towing cars-wing it with me, will you?

* * *

Aren't you glad it didn't take 5 years in this universe?!

Just for fun, for you fellow P+P fans, who do you prefer-Matthew or Colin? Keira or Jennifer? 1995 or 2005?


	7. Chapter 7

**I loved hearing your Pride and Prejudice-y thoughts. I personally am about as indecisive as Phil on the whole thing...**

 **As always, your reviews, faves, and follows are treasured and mean more to me than you know.**

* * *

 _Want to help a bored man with his homework?_

With a smirk, Anne looked through eyelet curtains that caressed the little window of her little blue room at the descending twilight. The sky was quickly blotting blue on blue, one stroke at a time, into deeper and deeper shades of inky darkness.* It had only been a week since that fateful day when Anne relented to befriend Gilbert, and since then they had become quick and fast friends; but that's how it always was with kindred spirits for Anne - yesterday's strangers were today's constant companions. He had kept his promise to fix her car as soon as he came back, and Diana could swear she had cardiac arrest when she found Gilbert sitting at the Patty's Place kitchen table, hands stained with car grease and eating a bowl of mac and cheese. He debated heatedly with Anne on whether transportation or the beef industry had a greater negative environmental impact like it was something they did everyday.

"It probably doesn't look it, but we actually are good friends now," Gilbert said with a roguish grin at the sight of a dumbstruck Diana.

Every day since then, Gilbert seemed to sidle into Anne's life like he'd been there all along. Spontaneous conversations between classes had them sprinting off to their next destination with rushed goodbyes after realizing twenty minutes had slipped by. A quick perusal among the library shelves for a research paper turned into being the last yawning pair to exit the building at closing. Gilbert's dreams and ambitions were just as high as Anne's, and studying together was kindling to each other's constant burning flame of achievement. As much as she loved Diana and Phil, Diana didn't have the same amount of responsibilities and Phil's interpretation of 'studying' was more akin to her own personal talk show.

 _Ahh, but I just cozied up to a big mug of steaming tea and my main man William Butler Yeats,_ she texted back.

Gilbert replied immediately _._

 _Pleasssse help meeee there's been one customer in the last hour and I've been sucked into the black abyss of distraction that's called,_ "Star Wars _just came out on Netflix."_

 _...sounds like a personal problem._

 _Please, Obi-Anne Shirlnoby, you're my only hope._

Anne couldn't help snorting.

 _That was pretty terrible. You obviously need some serious help._

 _Yes I do._

 _Your help, specifically._

 _Hmmm..._

But she was already swinging her bag over her shoulders and slipping into warm boots, taking one last quick swig of her tea.

 _I'll make you the best chai ever known to mankind._

A smile curled on Anne's lips.

 _Fine, you pathetic man._

 _YOU'RE THE BEST._

Anne stepped into the warm, bean roasted smell of The Kind Barista, the door shutting behind her with a cheery tinkle, breathing and soaking in the rosy hues that the lamps and twinkling lights cast the room in. Removing her green hat, she met the eyes of a sheepish and ashamed Gilbert.

"No more of _that,"_ Anne said with a grin, shutting his laptop and taking a seat on the stool opposite the barista counter where Gilbert leaned.

"Yes, Mother," Gilbert said obediently with a laugh in his eyes.

Anne wrapped her hands around the radiating warmth of the tea promised to her, wafting in its silky steaminess. She gave Gilbert a look, "Please tell me you've done something more productive with your evening than binge watch _Star Wars?"_

Gilbert leaned forward, elbows to counter. "I was _very_ productive - I watched all three of the first episodes _and_ I put all the files from my medical courses into alphabetical order."

"Gilbert!" she scoffed as he laughed and moved a rogue curl that had been mussed by her hat. She swatted his hand away, undeterred from her scolding, "You are the busiest person I know! How are you not getting behind?"

Gilbert shrugged. "It all gets done. Sleep is optional." He gave her a stern look, "You're way busier than me, anyways."

"Am _not."_

He looked skeptical. "Ok, _Miss Shirley,_ After School Program Director. And you can't even pretend that's not a ton of work - I read that article in the Redmond Standard that Sloane wrote about all your responsibilities."

Anne grimaced, remembering when Charlie had insisted on shadowing her for an entire _two days_ , taking notes on her every action and insisting he would not miss a single detail. Not that anything could possibly slip past those goggled eyes. Anne had sarcastically asked if his notes included her resting heart rate and her average time between bathroom breaks. Charlie had quickly reassured her that these calculations could easily be acquired.

"But I do love it so much-" Anne insisted.

" _And_ I forgot to mention you're the senior editor of said paper-"

"You work for the Daily News, you hypocrite!"

"As a press operator, not _editor_ -"

"Only because you're probably too busy being Mr. President of the senior class!"

Gilbert shook his head, "We all know the Vice President does all the work. Which you would know, Miss Poetry and Prose Vice Prez.

Anne pointed a finger towards him, "And you're the president of the Debate Society!"

"Which you should join, by the way."

Anne ignored him. "And the football captain-"

"It's _seasonal."_ He huffed.

They both glared at each other momentarily and then burst into laughter.

"God, you're such a stubborn Islander, I can't believe I couldn't see that before," Gilbert muttered.

"I could say the same about you!" she poked back, but really, Anne swelled with pride, for there was nothing she quite liked more than feeling an affinity for her beloved Island and all its quirks.

They continued to laugh and banter for a little longer, and finally both sides conceded that they were far too busy. The conversation took a somber toll then, for the reality was they both came from simple farming homes where all their needs were met, but had little money for anything else. College didn't pay for itself, and nor would Grad School, and that was that.

Effectively sobered, they both reluctantly pulled out their heavy books and notes like wading in deep water with heavy, sagging clothes. Anne paused, staring with knitted brows at her book that was currently swimming before her welling eyes.

Gilbert paused too, tensing when he saw her uncharacteristically troubled face.

"Anne?"

She stirred, trying to blink the tears back that were coming whether she liked it not. She took a shaky breath and glanced up to Gilbert's concerned face.

"Gil," her voice broke, "I have something to tell you. She paused before rushing the words out.

"I-can't-come-back-to-Redmond-next-semester."

Anne had been studying with Phil over fries in the Redmond commons, which really meant Anne had one eye on her essay, typing a whopping one sentence per hour while Phil shopped online for velvet knee high boots and recounted her last date with Ron Stuart, pausing every few minutes to wrangle in random passers by for color swatch opinions. That's when the email came.

 _Dear Miss A. Shirley,_

 _ID # 4074089_

 _We are sorry for inform you that a hold has been placed on all accounts with outstanding balances of subsequent missed payments as of today, November 10, 2017._

 _For the hold to be removed, your balance must be paid in full._

 _Failure to complete payments by December 1st, 2017 will result in dismissal from all enrollment and activities at Redmond College._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Stan Mitchell_

 _Student Payment Accounts._

Anne had sat in chilling numbness. She knew this was coming - her scholarship had run dry and she refused to tell Matthew and Marilla of her predicament for fear that they would take drastic measures of selling Green Gables. Her income just scraped by to pay her rent and left not much else. The possibility of taking out a student loan loomed over her head, but she heeded Matthew's practical advice to never buy what she couldn't pay for.

"Suede or velvet? Ugh. And don't even _say_ leather because that died along with 2014-"

Phil stopped suddenly, her vocal cords sighing in relief as they received their first break in over an hour.

"Anne, dear?" Phil said quietly, watching Anne's eerily pale face, pasted by the fluorescent luminance of her computer screen.

"I'm-I'm out of money." Anne said weakly. "It's all gone."

Phil had waved her hand nonchalantly. "Honey, please. Next weekend we'll drive to Bolingbroke, and when tee time is over we'll just meander innocently over to the golf course when Daddy is as high as a kite for scoring a billion business deals, and then I'll present my 'poor dear friend Anne Shirley' who is SUCH a good influence on me and thinks ALL boys are a waste of time, and then wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am he'll write you a check right on the spot, saying, "A real champ you are, Miss Shirley!" After that, all you have to do is endure his lecturing about how horrible Kingsport real estate is - that lasts approximately an hour. Don't worry, as soon as the words 'property tax' are out of his mouth it's fair game to totally zone out. I do it every time."

Maybe it was the Islander in her, or Matthew's stubbornness, but it was against Anne's nature to accept anything she hadn't worked good and hard for.

Diana's reaction was perfectly sweet and the exact balm needed to extract all of Anne's dormant girlhood longings to weep, wail, and wallow in all her drama. She cried at all the right moments, cursed all school administration as corrupt and possessive, condemned all of society, and stood in solidarity that nothing could be more horrible.

"I won't be thinking about anything but you the _whole day_ of graduation!" cried Diana passionately with red eyes and a blubbering nose. "I'll cry the _whole time_ and won't enjoy it _at all!_ It will be the worst day, EVER!" She let out a wet sound of aggravation and then swore on her grandmother's grave right then and there that she wasn't going to graduation at all.

Anne had sobbed into her shoulder, repeatedly telling her she was the best friend she would ever have, but she knew Diana didn't really understand. Mr. Barry had always given a bulk payment to Redmond each August, and that was the last Diana ever thought about college tuition.

Marilla had done all the talking, assuring Anne with good and hearty sentiments like, "You don't know what's around the corner," and "God has a plan," and tried her overall best to smooth over the broken emotions that were passing over Anne's face. Matthew had only looked downcast from the screen with a sad expression.

Not five minutes later, Anne received a call from a determined Rachel Lynde. Knowing full well that Mrs. Lynde had a direct line of connection to Heaven, she easily assumed that God Almighty himself had tapped her on the shoulder and told her of Anne's predicament. In reality, she had stopped by Green Gables to collect Marilla's contribution to the Christmas toy drive bake sale and walked in on the grim scene.

"Now, Anne Shirley, don't you dare let me see you giving up on what the Lord has set before you. This is the devil's work, that's what. He prowls around like a roaring lion, as you know, and he prowled all the way down to Novia Scotia to give you a run for your money, and quite literally at that, too. God has given you a mission, my child, and the gates of hell will not prevail against it. Don't you forget it."*

Each response was more or less what Anne had expected and each comforting in their own way. Gilbert's response surprised Anne the most, for he hardly responded at all.

"So you'll just take a semester or two off, save up a bit and then you'll be right back to it."

Anne stared incredulously and sputtered.

"B-but I'll be behind! I won't graduate on time, I'll lose Patty's Place and my roommates and-"

Gilbert put a hand on her arm to still her blustering and gave her a tender but serious look. "You'll only be behind a semester - at most a year. And think of all the years after that you'll have to fulfill your dreams - one more year to complete college is nothing at all."

Anne blinked viciously to still the tears and wiped her eyes in gruff frustration. "How can you be so _calm?"_

Gilbert shrugged. "Only because I've stressed about this same stuff about a million times."

Anne nodded in understanding, for Gilbert shared more in common in this aspect than anyone else.

He continued, "Just about every semester I didn't know where the money for school was going to come from - I had to think seriously about the options. I would always tell myself it would work out one way or another, and I'd get a degree eventually, even if it took longer than expected." He looked at her meaningfully. "And it's the same for you, too."

Anne hiccuped and continued to chase the tears that stubbornly kept coming.

Gilbert ducked his head to meet her eyes glued to the table. "You're not a failure, ok? It's not like you're flunking out, you're just taking some more time so you can pay your way through. That's just about the most responsible reason to take a break from school."

He willed her eyes to meet his. "Ok?"

Anne nodded and let out a small, watery giggle when she looked at Gilbert's persistent face cast against his cap gone askew on top of thick, wavy hair. She reached out to straighten it.

With a smile, Gilbert grabbed her hand and pulled her up to standing. He addressed the last of the wearied students who still remained in the shop.

"Shop's closed, everyone - it actually closed 30 minutes ago, but the compassion and goodness of my heart has finally run dry and I'm kicking you out."

Whipping bleary eyes towards the clock, the students moaned collectively at how late it had become and murmured their goodbyes and "thanks Blythe," as they filtered out into the night.

Still feeling disheveled, Anne softly apologized for keeping Gilbert up so late. She gathered her homework that she hardly touched, feeling like a cracked cistern pumped dry.

Gilbert had other ideas. Reaching for her hand once again, he directed her towards the door, gathering a few heavy woolen blankets off the lumpy floral couch and plucking a slender book from a shelf.

"Come on," he beckoned with a twinkle in his eye, "I have a surprise to show you."

* * *

*Paraphrased quote taken from _Dance, Dance, Dance_ by Haruki Murakami

*Mrs. Lynde quoted two Bible verses; the first from 1 Peter 5:8, the second from Matthew 16:18


	8. Chapter 8

They slipped out the door into silky darkness, Gilbert leading the way down the sidewalk. A misty rain caused the street lamps to glow with a fogged halo, their orbs haunting the sky and casting a glassy hue against the slick stone pavement. Their breath came out as ghostly puffs, and the city had fallen under the hush of night as if lying in wait, waiting and sharing in Anne's own anticipation. She could hear water tickle its way through the gutters and the squelch of Gilbert's shoes with each long stride.

 _"Do not go gentle into that good night,_

 _Rage, rage against the dying of the light,"*_ she breathed, soaking in the air's enchantment.

Gilbert continued to lead her into the center of town, and Anne tried her best to keep up with his fast pace. "Where are we going?" she asked, watching beads of rain form in his hair like drops on a spider's web.

He smiled at her, placing the thick wool blanket around her shoulders, eyes as glossy and bright as the street lamps' reflections. "Well, it wouldn't be a surprise if I told you, would it?"

The spitting drizzle slowly turned into a pattering rain, which quickly morphed into a down pouring cascade, globs of water plinking and spraying all around them. With a yelp, Gilbert spread his blanket over their heads as a makeshift shelter, linked his arm through Anne's, and set off at a running pace down the street, giving a frenzied shout of, "Let's go!"

Blinded by the water in her eyes, the only thing Anne could hear above the cacophony of rain was Gilbert's ridiculous laugh, causing her to join with him until her side ached and her feet were stumbling in the direction of wherever he was leading her. She dodged the quickly pooling puddles with each, "Watch out, Anne!" that he called out, until they finally collapsed under the small overhang above the grand entry door of the city's cathedral.

"That was crazy!" Gilbert said over the roar of the rain, heaving against the door, laughing as he watched Anne pant and struggle to remove water from her eyes and hair plastered to her face. They evaluated the damage of their dampened clothes and caught their breath. Digging in his pocket, Gilbert fiddled with the magnificent entry way's ornate lock.

" _Gilbert_! We can't just break in!"

He threw her a mischievous look and held up a glinting piece of metal. "Good thing I have the key," he said, pulling open the massive door with a wailing creak, revealing an expanse of stony shadows inside.

Anne quickly forgot her surprise as she followed Gilbert into the holy silence, a sanctuary from the pounding outside. Stopping in the middle of the aisle, her eyes were pulled upward in awe to the expansive vaulted ceilings which disappeared up into unreachable darkness. The waning light of night seeped through the glass panes and cast shafts of murky grayness across the pews and where Anne stood. She watched the rain seep down the side of crucified Christ depicted in the stained window like pouring blood. Gilbert watched her still figure from behind, the only color not obscured in shadow her dripping auburn hair.

"How did you get a key?" Anne asked, turning towards him and walking back. She didn't dare speak above a whisper, fearing anything louder than a hushed tone would be sacrilege. Even so, her voice echoed in the silence.

"I do janitorial work here sometimes, when they need extra help," his low voice tumbled against the stony walls. Anne could barely see his face in the darkness.

"So you _are_ busier than me."

Anne heard him chuckle. "You win. But this isn't what I came to show you," he said, turning back and walking into the deep shadow created by the overhead balcony. Anne followed him and promptly ran into something warm and solid that felt a lot like Gilbert's chest.

" _Oof,"_ he said, reaching out to steady her and elbowing her head in the process.

Ah—shoot—I'm so sorry—" He said in response to her groan. "I can't see a single thing—I _know_ there's a door here, if I could just find it."

Anne heard him rubbing a hand across the wall. "This isn't one of those times where you find a secret lever to a dungeon and throw me to the rats, is it?" she whispered. "Or— oh," she said with a small gasp, "Don't tell me there's a crypt—it can't possibly be that old, can it? One time in middle school Diana and I brought one of those stupid Ouija boards to the graveyard one dark and November-y night, and I swear I haven't been sane since. Unless there's a tomb like in _Aida_ —you know, two Egyptian lovers condemned to die buried alive in the same tomb. But, a Canadian version of course. I suppose they'd be buried under snow—but there's no avalanches here. Oh! Two lovers, frozen together off the shore of Kingsport in their little rowboat—Gil? Gilbert?"

" _Boo_ ," Gilbert jolted her from behind, causing Anne to let out one shrill shriek that echoed briefly across the walls, followed by a string of innocent expletives and the vow to give his butt a good kick. Once she could finally see, that is.

"Sorry," Gilbert said after recovering from a bout of laughter, sounding very pleased and not apologetic at all. "I think you've been watching too much _Titanic_ lately. No crypt, or any dungeons, I promise. Here, I finally found the door."

Following his voice, Anne could just barely make out a small wooden door nestled into stone that revealed a steep and narrow staircase spiraling upwards. Realization dawned on her.

"You're Quasimodo!"

"No wonder all the girls at school run away from me screaming," he winked.

They ascended the echoing staircase to the very top spire containing the bell tower. On the long climb up, Gilbert explained it's history, how way back in the day before automated clocks the cathedral had a bell ringer who announced with different quantities of rings either the time or the commencement of mass. In modern times, the church had remodeled the historic bell to ring automatically throughout the day, leaving the bell tower unoccupied. Anne was quite thankful for the lesson, for she was not nearly as in shape as Gilbert. While his clear and true voice echoed through the staircase, she was working up a sweat and tried not to breath too obnoxiously.

Thoroughly warmed from the hike, they finally reached the small, circular stone room. It was surrounded with narrow arched windows open to the elements, but the walls thick enough to shelter from the wet outside. Rushing to one of the openings, Anne looked out across the city from the highest point, able to see the expanse of lights dotted across in perfect linear fashion down each street, cars distant and small like glistening beetles trudging through dowsing rain. Beyond that was the sea, but tonight it was only a dark, dark abyss that stretched for eternity, swirled together with the sky.

Anne stared in silent wonder, hair whipping against her face, soaking, drinking, and gathering the city spread out before her in a feasting of lights. All that sounded around them was the steady patter and splat of rain against stone and the misty spray of wind. She was convinced that she'd never felt more alive, nor had Kingsport ever been more beautiful to her.

"Anne?" Gilbert said softly at her side some long moments later.

"Yeah?"

"What are you thinking about?"

Anne sighed and breathed out a whisper. "That these moments are slipping from me like pearl beads down a broken thread, and if I could, I'd capture them and swallow them, enveloping them in a shell to be preserved forever."

Gilbert was silent for a moment, then spoke tentatively, "Knowing our Island, you've probably been quoted a million Bible verses. But, there's this one that my dad reminded me of each time I was stressed. He said it got him through a lot of hard harvest seasons —and it's always helped me.

"'Do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself...'"

"'...For each day has enough trouble of its own,"* Anne completed gently.

She turned toward him, his pensive face watching hers. She beckoned towards the view below. "Thank you, Gil, for this. I won't ever forget it." She felt she were saying goodbye already.

He gave her a small smile. "Oh, but you haven't even experienced the surprise yet."

"No?"

He spread his blanket on the stone ledge that sat underneath the massive, shining bell, and procured half a dozen candles that were hidden in one of the room's nooks. He lit them and placed them in front of them in a glowing half moon, filling the place with flickering orange.

Taking a seat beside him and wrapping her blanket around her, Anne looked at Gilbert quizzically, "Gil, how often do you come here?"

Gilbert laughed. "This probably makes me look like a crazed homeless man. Just every so often, just to get away sometimes."

Anne looked around. "I'm sure it's quite the Kingsport underage drinking hot spot. I'm surprised there's no empty beer cans up here."

Gilbert brought out the slender book from inside his sweater and dropped his eyes as he shifted through the pages absently. It fell open to a well worn page that looked as if it had been accessed many, many times. "Not quite. I'm the only who knows about it. Well, me and the church staff, I guess."

Feeling both embarrassed and honored, Anne wasn't quite sure what to say. She was saved when Gilbert scooted closer to her and held up the book like a hymnal. He checked his watch and gave her a queer little smile.

"Ok, it's time. I brought the Beats* along with me, because it's really fitting for—well, you'll see."

Anne raised her eyebrows suspiciously.

"Just trust me," he urged her, "But, you have to plug your ears right when I tell you, ok?"

Anne gave him a perplexed look but went along with it, for his surprises for the night had yet to disappoint.

With the help of the candlelight, Gilbert began to recite a poem, motioning her to join with him. No longer the hushed and submissive tones of before down below, they urged their voices to sound over the pounding rain smacking against stone.

 _"I am waiting_

 _for a rebirth of wonder..._

 _And I am waiting_

 _for the discovery_

 _of a new symbolic western frontier..._

 _I am waiting for the war to be fought_

 _Which will make the world safe_

 _for anarchy..."_

They chant it like a liturgy, the beating rain competing for attention around them, pounding, pounding, pounding, but they raise their voices in defiance.

" _I am waiting_

 _for the secret of eternal life_

 _to be discovered..._

 _I am waiting for_

 _the day that maketh all things clear..._

 _I am waiting to get some intimations_

 _of immortality_

 _by recollecting my early childhood_

 _And I am waiting for the green mornings to come again..._

 _I am awaiting_

 _perpetually and forever_

 _a renaissance of wonder."*_

Gilbert had just enough time to shout, "Plug your ears, Anne!" before the bell made its first strike at midnight, reverberating Anne to her very core until everything is beating, beating, beating—the beating of her heart, the warm blood rushing in her veins, the beating of the rain, the beating of the bell, until it beat a bubbling laugh right out of her, her own chime into the night.

* * *

*"Do not go gentle into that good night" by Dylan Thomas.

*Matthew 6:34

*The Beats, also known as the Beat Generation, was a group of poets and literary trail blazers during the 1950's, known for their controversial writings on social and political topics.

*Excerpts from "I Am Waiting" by Lawrence Ferlinghetti


	9. Chapter 9

If a nook in the Oxford library were crossed with a well loved used bookstore and shrunk to a one room apartment, Miss Stacey's home would fit the perfect description. Sturdy, dark stained wood bookshelves overflowing with multitudes of dusty tomes lined every wall, thanks to her love for literature and her husband's extensive PhD reading. Mismatched bronze lamps with sage green sconces swathed the room in muted cheeriness, but only when the old brick fireplace wasn't casting long flickering shadows upon its walls. A paisley rug of rich golds, browns, and reds padded the room under a faded maroon corduroy couch, so snug and welcoming it gladly greeted its guests in a melted embrace. It was a hearty home, and Anne could not describe it better than cozying up to a warm bowl of beef stew.

"The Lake of Shining Waters, Dryad's Bubble, the White Way of Delight, and what do I get? The Beef Stew Room," Miss Stacey had teased Anne at the moment of its christening.

Anne had laughed and assured her the room was the most heartiest of hearty beef stews, and if she had ever tasted a Green Gable beef stew on a cold winter day, she would know just how fond of a compliment it was. From then on, time spent at Miss Stacey's was always affectionately known as "stewing."

One evening, Miss Stacey lounged upon her worn and beloved couch spread eagled and very bloated with pregnancy,* when Anne tapped a cheery knock and entered the room with such a radiant face she was almost glowing, holding up a bag of goldfish crackers.

"Oh, bless you, _bless you."_ Miss Stacey said. "I swear this child only has an appetite for cheddar fish."

Anne flopped into the folds of the corduroy couch, leaning towards Miss Stacey's protruding stomach and mustered her best baby voice. "And the most _precious_ little fish eating nugget you are!"

Miss Stacey had known Anne since middle school during her first year teaching 8th grade Language Arts in Avonlea. She was apprehensive when the school administration had notified her that she would be receiving a student newly adopted and fresh out of foster care, but the girl she met was not what she was expecting—frail and mouselike, her eyes the biggest part of her, perpetually dreaming. Her innocent, imaginative spirit, always rapturing and relishing, made her a student that the young Miss Stacey had only dared dream she would find, and though she felt wrong to admit it, Anne had always been her favorite student. Over the years, Anne had changed from her student, to an apprentice when she came to volunteer at the after school program, and finally to the one she trusted enough to pass her job and her students to during a grueling pregnancy. She now considered Anne as much as an equal as a dear friend. She had insisted Anne start calling her after her first name, or at least using her married name, but Anne had refused defiantly, saying she would always and forever be Miss Stacey, her beloved teacher.

Miss Stacey looked affectionately at her friend who was almost wriggling with anticipation and laughed. "Alright, what has got you so happy you're almost bursting?"

"Oh, I've been dying for you to ask," Anne gushed, diving into her bag and procuring a sheet of paper. "You know how I've been working with Davy and Dora individually on their reading and writing skills? Well, it's been—it's been a bit of a nightmare. It's almost impossible to get Davy to sit down, and when he finally does, he is so wiggly and he almost plows over Dora when he erupts. I've been so discouraged—I really did think I was doomed to be a horrible teacher. But, today, _today_ , we finally had a breakthrough. Just listen to this: An actual story that they wrote together. Try to guess who wrote which parts-and I dare you to try not to laugh."

Anne cleared her throat, sat up straight, and donned her most teacher-ly voice.

" _The Story of the Bear, the Dinosaur, and the Princess, by Davy Keith and Dora Keith._

 _"One day there was a bear and a dinosaur who wanted to be friends. They go to the forest. They play tag. They had a campfire with marshmallows. Then, all of a sudden a princess came out of nowhere and hopped on the back of the dinosaur. She had a dress and it was purple and white. The princess tried to take the dinosaur away. Then the dinosaur escaped and the bear was happy because they were friends again. They threw the princess in jail forever. The princess got out! She escapes. She runs far away to a castle. Her name was Rapunzel. The police find her and they take the princess. The princess falls in love with the police. They kissed a lot. The bear and the dinosaur ran away to Mexico. In Mexico they ate tacos, went to the beach, and spoke Spanish. The police did not like the princess anymore so he sent her back to jail. Then she escaped and he liked her again and they kissed a lot. And then the dragon found them and melted them with his fire. The end."_

Anne looked up at her curiously silent teacher.

"Oh—Miss Stacey, you're crying!"

She wiped her eyes and waved for a tissue. "I just—just was thinking about you as an 8th grader—so young and impressionable—and here you are, grown up and teaching on your own—I'm just so—so proud—and Davy and Dora so desperately need someone to love them—they will all miss you so much—"

She took a deep breath, sufficiently mopping the remainder of the tears and composed herself. "Ugh, I cry at everything."

Anne laughed. "Oh, don't worry—me too. And I don't even have an excuse."

"I also cried the other day when I came by the school and saw you organizing your classroom."

Anne looked confused. "I don't remember—"

Miss Stacey shook her head, "I didn't want to look like a crazy pregnant hormonal woman after I saw you were with someone. A very cute someone, I might add."

"He's just a friend," Anne assured her with a rush. Miss Stacey raised her eyebrows. Anne felt her face flush in betrayal. "He was helping me organize the class into stations. He's very, um. Organized."

Miss Stacey gave Anne a disbelieving look but otherwise stayed silent on the topic. Anne could say whatever she wanted, but Miss Stacey knew she was far too independent and stubborn to let her classroom be organized by anyone other than herself. She had found the pair cross legged on the reading rug, Anne sifting through a pile of crafts, telling of the day's classroom trials, while her 'friend' regarded her with eyes that couldn't be explained as anything short of adoring. It wasn't just any friend that came for hours to organize a classroom that Anne would only reorganize anyways, nor would any friend encourage a distraught teacher with these affectionately murmured words, so blatantly obvious and adorably cringeworthy it caused Miss Stacey to cry even further:

"I can't imagine that your students haven't already fallen completely in love with you."

She wasn't the only one who suspected that someone _other_ than her students had fallen completely in love with her. While Anne slumbered innocently, Phil and Priscilla swapped their recent findings one night:

"Remember Ron Stuart? The one who plans the most exquisite dates but for the life of him will not condemn that disgusting mustache? Well, he's Gilbert roommate, and he says he's never seen him this way about any other girl but Anne. Won't stop talking about 'How different and unique and beautiful in every way, _blah, blah, blah_ ,' she is. Ron says he wants to be annoyed with her, but it's Anne—and no one could possibly be annoyed with that angel."

"I can believe it," said Priscilla, "Did you know I saw them in the Commons yesterday? Anne said she had forgotten her _collection of leaves_ on the second floor and Gilbert ran, literally ran, all the way back up two flights of stairs and back. For _leaves_."

Phil shook her head, "He would seriously do anything for her. Remember that one time she had that recital for Poetry and Prose at the senior center? He came by Patty's Place and asked where she was—interrupting mine and Diana's pedicure date—and he was FREAKING OUT for forgetting about it. He kept pacing around like a crazy man saying, 'I can't believe I forgot! I just can't believe it!,' like he forgot that her name was spelled with an 'E' or something, he was SO dramatic. We finally got him to shut up after we reminded him WE weren't there because it was only for the elderly. And then, I kid you not, the next night he came by dressed up as an old man, dyed his hair gray, had a theatre major do his old man makeup, cane and grandpa clothes—seriously, EVERYTHING—and told her he'd just have to recite it again because he counted as a senior citizen. He's gonna make a damn good looking silver fox one day, too."

Priscilla burst out laughing. "Oh, God, _only_ Gilbert. What a big goof."

She sighed, "He's totally in love."

"MmHmm," Phil agreed, "Completely and totally."

Despite how much Anne explained to everyone that they were just close friends—no, that hug she ran up and gave him when the debate ended wasn't because she was his girlfriend, it was simply because she was so proud he had won after all the hours they had spent together rehearsing and exploring every possible argument. But, it was a useless cause to try and convince them otherwise.

Even Diana had innocently teased if they'd make their relationship official before she left Redmond, but was quickly stoic after Anne strongly assured there was nothing going on between them.

"With _Gilbert_?" Anne sputtered. The note still tucked inside her copy of Shakespeare's best works came to mind, but that seemed like an irrelevant and ancient relic. "He's like-like a _brother_."

After Anne's detailed assurance, Diana wisely didn't push the subject, even though the way Gilbert looked at her best friend certainly was not like a sister—but it didn't matter. Anne was leaving Redmond soon, and for the first time since she came to Green Gables, the two would go their separate ways.

Feeling miserable about the inevitable, the two girls sat on Diana's pink plush bed. Anne stared at the ceiling, clutching Diana's Minnie Mouse Pillow Pet to her chest while Diana sorted absently through a pile of nail polish and tried to make the best of it.

"Well, at least you'll have Crafting Babes?" Anne said half hopefully. Crafting Babes was a group that Diana had helped start and was now the secretary of. Anne could think of no better explanation for the group than if Pinterest became incarnate and had a baby with the Target decorum section and produced the ultimate offspring of DIY perfection, suited with lots of burlap, glitter, florals, and the color 'blush.' Anne truly did try to love it, for she wanted deeply to love anything Diana did. She had never previously considered herself particularly rebellious, but there was something about the environment of delicately curled ombré hair, Colbie Caillet, and common use of the word 'cute' that gave her the strongest urges to shave her head, take up chain smoking, and swap stories about recent orgasm experiences.

The last time Anne was invited to Crafting Babes was the night the theme was, 'Grateful, Thankful, Blessed." It involved a lot of recycled pallets, cursive writing, and chalk paint. Anne was particularly proud of her piece that featured distressed wood and delicate painted rosebuds encircling the words, "Life's a Bitch," in a glittery gold font template coined 'Magnolia bourgeois.' She did feel guilty for embarrassing Diana, but Josie Pye's pursed lips and passive aggressive comments were very fulfilling.

"I guess that's true." Diana sighed, stroking her calico cat named Petal forlornly. "But they're not _you,_ Anne."

Anne leaned her head against her shoulder. "You are my very heart and soul, Diana, and my first real, true friend. Avonlea is going to be so lonely without you. Please don't forget me?"

"I couldn't!" Diana cried.

Anne sat up and clapped her hands together, causing Petal to scamper away in shock. "I know! We could record each of our days like a journal—but we'll address them to each other. Then it'll be like I never left."

For the meantime, the residents of Patty's Place plus Phil vowed to enjoy every last moment of what Anne called, 'The Golden Age,' and spend as much time together as physically possible.

Recently, they had decided to attend every remaining game of the Redmond football team. Stella came for the spirit of comradeship, and Priscilla was one of those few people who genuinely enjoyed football. Diana had agreed with Pris, but based on the certain moments she dug her fingernails into Anne's arm in anxious anticipation whenever a certain Fred Wright was on the field, Anne was finding her interest lay otherwise. Phil had already faithfully gone to every game since freshman year to analyze the athletic prowess of Alec and Alonzo.

"I know it sounds ridiculously vain, but really girls, this is for the sake of my children's physical physique. I want them to be healthy. And I think if my husband ever grew a beer belly I'd have to divorce him immediately," Phil had said.

Anne personally didn't mind the games. She found the football uniforms reminiscent of 18th century breeches and could hardly stop laughing the entire time for the hilarity of it. She did love a good laugh, and picturing a crew of colonial men jostling each other around certainly did it for her. It was particularly humorous watching Gilbert prance around with such tight and oddly shaped clothing, though the rest of the crowd didn't seem to notice, accounting to how he was the recipient of most of the cheering.

Sweaty and steamy from after the game, Gilbert approached Anne. A grin spread across his face as she saw him, a hand clapping over her mouth to subside a peal of laughter. Gilbert had switched his football helmet for a powdered wig and held a dainty tea cup and saucer haughtily in one hand.

"Miss Shirley," Gilbert said in his most poshest attempt at a British accent, hand on hip, "Give me liberty or give me death!"

Anne was struggling to breath. "How did you-"

Gilbert tossed his wigged curls and held up his tea cup. "Blimey! Rubbish! Or, since we're bilingual here-Oui, Oui! Baguette! Mademoiselle, si vous plait?"

Anne was now doubled over in laughter. "Stop—stop—you're killing me—" she managed to choke out.

He removed the wig and looked at her with an amused expression. "It's still amazing to me how funny you find this. Can you have a real conversation, or is it better if I just change my clothes?"

Anne took multiple deep breaths, trying her best to steady herself with only a few giggles slipping out.

"Ok. Ok, I'm good now."

"Well, I was thinking—the Lambs are having a party tonight..."

Anne raised an eyebrow.

"And you did say you wanted to enjoy, and I quote, 'every last morsel' of Redmond..."

Anne regarded him closely. "Are you inviting me to a frat party?"

Gilbert grimaced. "It does sound bad when you phrase like that. But, yes—I guess I am. I mean, what kind of college experience would you really have unless you went to at least one frat party?"

Anne laughed. "I guess I wouldn't have any horrid stories to share with my children. That would be a shame."

"It really would be," he said, feigning seriousness. "And this is your last week, after all."

She nodded, feeling a heavy twinge in her chest. "Then there's really no time to lose, is there?"

"No," he said, a sad expression falling over his face. He brought a hand to her elbow and gave it a soft squeeze. "See you there?"

"See you there."

* * *

*In Ch. 4 Anne became the After School Program Director because Miss Stacey was having her baby. I tweaked that slightly.


	10. Chapter 10

"I don't think you understand, love. I don't GO to the frat boys. The frat boys come to ME."

In a silk robe with the words, 'Diva,' emblazoned on the front, Phil lounged atop her velvet burgundy king sized bed that resided pristinely in the otherwise chaotic furnishings of the Patty's Place living room. The remaining residents had hesitantly conceded to Phil's begging to let her live with them in Anne's absence, but since the blue room would sadly be unoccupied, the crew mistakenly assumed Phil would take Anne's former place of living. Anne had yet to find the emotional stability to pack, so at first when Phil moved all her belongings into the living room the other girls were unconcerned. The first indications of brewing trouble was when Phil began to replace the simple and sensible curtains with her own deep velvet ones. Stella innocently mentioned it would make far more sense to wait to put up curtains until the blue room was unoccupied, and in a tinkling laugh, Phil assured her she couldn't possibly move into Anne's old room; it was far too sacred, after all. Late one night, the three girls convened in the hallway in hushed anxious tones of what could be done, but concluded any confrontation must wait out of respect for Anne

"Plus," Phil said, peering over her wine glass at Anne, "I'm sure Gilbert will be delighted to look after you."

Anne colored. "I don't－but, I want you to come with us, Phil."

"As much as I adore you, Queen Anne, I just don't do frat parties, and after all this moving, I do need my Phil time." She sprawled her hand against the comforter's plush velvet. "I'm really feeling these red wine burgundy vibes, but unfortunately I'll have to abandon it all since it's so trendy now...Oh, and Anne, my dear, I'll be there at two in the morning for you."

Anne gave her a look. "I don't think that will be necessary."

Phil swirled her glass, amused. "I'll be there at two, and I'll drag you out of the den of inebriation if I have to."

* * *

"I don't want you to leave Redmond."

Gilbert and Anne were slumped woozily against the couch recovering from six Jell-O shots, two beers, followed by a rousing dance session to One Direction's, "Don't You Know You're Beautiful," which Anne was delightfully surprised to find Gilbert knew every word to in his half intoxicated state.

Anne flopped her hands dejectedly. "Well, it's not like I can do much about that."

"You've tried applying for scholarships for going through foster care, right?"

"I've been adopted too long for them to consider me."

Gilbert thought hard. "What if－have you tried－I mean, I know they give weird scholarships for..." He glanced at her uncomfortably. "Certain attributes."

Anne gave him a spiked look. "If you mean the scholarships for redheads, then I've already won it. The only useful thing red hair has ever done for me," she said bitterly.

They sat in dejected silence, absently watching the throbbing crowd pulsating to the music.

With a gasp, Gilbert sat straight up and declared, "I've got the _best_ idea," promptly rose to a wobbly standing position, climbing on top of the couch, and cleared his throat to the crowd below.

"Gather 'round, gather 'round, ladies and gents, boys and girls, mates and misses, juniors and seniors, drunk and sober, Novia Scotians and those abroad," he said in a booming voice, arms outstretched to the jostling crowd that slowly stopped dancing and turned their wary eyes towards him until all was completely silent.

"Good evening fellow Reds. You've experienced the glorious revelries and superior trashy feeling of sacrificing your liver at frat parties, but have you ever done so knowing it's for the better cause of your fellow man, or in this case, woman? Yes, tonight you can give not only the curdled remains of shitty beer barf from the very depths of your bowels, but also a gift from the depths of your heart. Now, let me ask you, have you ever had the privilege of a P.E.I potato gracing your lips and thought, 'Good God, this is changing forever the way I think about vegetables?' Have you ever wondered how you could ever give back from being so exquisitely blessed? Yes? Well, let me point you no further to one of P.E.I's own, who has shared the same hallowed, red earth, a woman who has breathed the very same salty air of the Gulf of Saint Lawrence, the very face to express your tuberous gratitude in monetary form. I present, the one, the only, the Queen of Prince Edward Island Potatoes, ANNNNNNNE SHIRLEY!"

The amount of money that was shoved in Anne's way was either the testament of how beloved potatoes were to a good solid Canadian, how much alcohol flowed through the veins of Redmond's best and brightest, or Gilbert's ability to charm a crowd into just about anything. Or, perhaps all three. Either way, as Anne waved and smiled to the exuberantly cheering crowd, they shoved wads of cash into the empty chip bag Gilbert held out while bowing dramatically and expressing their deep gratitude to the 'Queen of Potatoes.' Ruby Gillis passionately embraced Anne with tears streaming down her face, and even Josie Pye gave five dollars while only partially sneering. Anne wasn't quite sure how to respond to a very plastered looking Craig the hockey player who demanded skeptically how they possibly tasted so good, which Anne helplessly summed up to the magic of the Island. He stumbled away looking mystified.

"All hail the Queen!" Gilbert shouted jubilantly, the crowd raising up sloshing red solo cups and cheering towards Anne.

"It's like they actually believe I personally grew the potatoes," Anne said helplessly to Gilbert as someone fastened a crown fashioned from the cardboard of a six pack. "I mean, I wasn't even born on P.E.I."

"Doesn't matter!" He responded cheerily, giving high fives to the generous donors, "I'm milking this for as long as possible!"

"Speech, speech, speech!" The crowd chanted, growing louder and louder. Anne shot a terrified look toward Gilbert, knowing full well her fine motor skills, and probably all skills, were far too inhibited at this point. Gilbert only smiled brilliantly and ordered the peasants to bring a podium for their Queen.

Anne reluctantly stepped onto an ice cooler and took a look out onto the crowd that was starting to look very blurry.

"Well, uh, I want to thank God, for you know...creating potatoes, especially on P.E.I, and－"

She was spared further embarrassment as Moody Spurgeon entered the room playing the fiddle, followed by Fred on the guitar, and Charlie Sloane who sputtered away at the harmonica, to the tune of a song that any Islander could sing in their sleep.

With a shout of exclamation, Gilbert grabbed Anne's hand and whipped her dangerously off the ice cooler into a dancing position.

"Grab a partner, everyone!" Gilbert shouted above her head, stepping in time to the music. "You're about to learn from us Islanders a real P.E.I. Ceilidh!"*

There was a great shuffle as everyone stumbled over each other's feet to find a body to dance with－girls with girls, guys with guys, pairs of twos, pairs of threes. Soon, all were laughing and clapping, trying their best to follow Anne and Gilbert who stomped their way around like professionals, catching onto the words the Islanders belted from their hearts:

 _Down in King's County, there's hard working folks,_

 _Some work in the fields, some work on the boats_

 _At the end of the week when we all draw our pay,_

 _You'd think the Indy 500 was heading this way!_

 _And the traffic's runnin' hard again_

 _All the way to Cardigan_

 _People runnin' up the hill_

 _To get a case of beer_

 _Gonna buy a quart of rum,_

 _Gonna have a little fun,_

 _Friday night in Cardigan_

 _And everybody's here_.**

One person bumped into another, causing them to trip over another's feet, and soon the whole room had collapsed to the floor in a heap of laughter, tangled limbs, and beer.

Gilbert untangled himself from Anne and heaved himself onto the floor next to her, back flat on the ground. If not for that she were laughing, eyes closed, with too much alcohol in her system, she would have noticed Gilbert press a lingering kiss to her forehead. Considering the circumstances, she did not.

* * *

"Good morning, sleeping beauty."

Anne awoke wincing to the light, groaned, and miserably buried her head back in Phil's velvet pillows.

"Drink this, deary. It'll make you feel better, I promise." Phil pushed a glass of water into Anne's hand, who was using the other to shield her eyes.

"This was a terrible idea," Anne groaned.

"I'm curious what exactly you remember," Phil said slowly.

Anne grunted miserably.

"As in, do you remember when I came to pick you up, and you were cuddled together with Gilbert out on the lawn?"

Anne snapped her hand from her face and nearly dropped her water.

 _"What?"_

 _"_ So you don't remember being snuggled up to Gilbert's neck with his arms all around you? Outside? On the grass? In the middle of winter?"

Anne looked horrified.

"Reciting poetry, something about a being a steadfast bright star?"**

"I recite poetry even when I'm completely wasted," Anne said wistfully. "I think that's the most delightful discovery about me I've ever heard."

"-I don't know what kind of stars you were seeing either, since it was completely cloudy, but you were pointing them out and everything. Probably would of froze to death if not for me..."

* * *

*A Ceilidh (pronounced Kaylee) is a traditional Irish/Scottish gathering that consists of traditional folk music and dancing. These gatherings still occur regularly on P.E.I.

**Excerpt taken from "All The Way to Cardigan" by local P.E.I band, The Fiddler's Sons

**"Bright star, were I steadfast as thou art," by John Keats

 **A/N: Happy New Years, everyone! If you're reading this, I am delighted! Thanks for coming back after many months of no updates. Rest assured, more serious chapters on their way.**

 **Just a reminder: Being drunk is not nearly as fun as it sounds here, so please be safe.**


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